


Let Me Forget About Today Until Tomorrow

by London9Calling, takostation



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Historical, M/M, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London9Calling/pseuds/London9Calling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/takostation/pseuds/takostation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  The war is over, leaving Chanyeol to search for redemption. He can't go back. At the same time Kyungsoo can't go forward.<br/><b>Warnings:</b> Not 100% historically accurate. Mentions of mental illness, violence, minor character death, and war. Angst. Homophobia.<br/><b>Notes:</b> I saw this prompt and had to claim it, a million thanks to the original prompter (and hopefully this is somewhat what you had in mind). I did not use Korean honorifics in this fic, largely because I get anxious romanizing them (and potentially misusing terms). Huge thanks to my test readers/betas Eka, S, Leira, D, and Kathryn. You guys made this story much better than it ever could have been on its own and for that I thank you a million times over. Written for Takostation round 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Forget About Today Until Tomorrow

   
  
**JANUARY 1954**  
  
   
  
He was vaguely aware of the fact that the train had stopped moving. The bumping and jerking motion of the locomotive had eased into a stillness, the hum of the passing countryside was replaced by the rustling of passengers retrieving their bags. The cold air that had whistled through the poorly sealed train car windows was no more, the biting chill hanging in the air still and unmoving.  
  
Chanyeol dragged his hand through his hair, put his palms to his face and rubbed vigorously. He hadn't planned on falling asleep, he wasn’t particularly tired. Yet he had found himself drifting off as they left Seoul behind, falling asleep to the quiet conversation of the woman and man across the aisle from him.  
  
When he glanced over the couple were gone, the passengers of the train car having left to the platform and their next destination. Except for him of course. With a quick stretch of his arms he stood up, groaning as his legs cramped from sleeping in the small space. He grabbed his duffle bag off of the seat next to him. He tossed the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the exit.  
  
The train platform was far from bustling when his beat-up black boots hit the concrete. He recognized a handful of people he had seen on the train making their way across the platform, a few American soldiers stood near the ticketing window, and a woman with a large cart full of scrap traversed the space. Having come from Seoul this place was positively deserted. He had left behind the throngs of American soldiers, the never-ending stream of refugees, and the stark contrast of destruction and survival.  
  
Yet this place wasn’t untouched. He noted the large crack that ran down the middle of the platform. One glance at the concrete pillars that supported the station roof and he could see the telltale chips caused by bullets. It wasn’t an unusual site anymore, unfortunately. There was hardly anywhere on the peninsula, it seemed, that didn’t bear the scars of war.  
  
He pulled the piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, the address scrawled out in his professor’s messy handwriting. He had never been to Namwon before, in fact he hadn’t really been anywhere other than Busan and Seoul. The address had little meaning for him. Was it far? Was it close? He had no idea.  
  
There was an elderly man begging outside the station, his breath visible in the winter chill. Chanyeol slipped him a few won and then asked him where he could find the location written on the paper.  
  
The man smiled, revealing a nearly toothless mouth. “That way, but it’s a long walk. Outside of town, past the stream, and you’ll come upon it.”  
  
Chanyeol thanked him. “I like to walk,” he said cheerfully. The man frowned. Chanyeol pursed his lips. With a small bow of thanks he left, walking towards the path the old man had pointed out.  
  
   
  
   
  
It was cold, bitterly so. The surrounding mountains were snowcapped, the white blanket of frozen snow creeping over the hilly landscape – dusting the trees and the buildings. As he walked down the paved road, which morphed into a dirt road as he neared the edge of town, his nose and ears began to freeze. He put his gloved hands to them, rubbing as he walked. His older sister had insisted he take gloves, shoving them into his pocket as he departed Seoul. She had been right, as usual.  
  
Namwon wasn’t anything like Seoul, he realized the more he walked. The biting cold air was cleaner, the spaces wide open. The destruction was still there – the shelled out remains of buildings, the telltale signs of battle– but even the ruins were less dense. Chanyeol sucked in a deep breath as he widened his strides. The sooner he was there, the sooner he could put down his bag.  
  
His sister had scolded him for packing too much, but he knew that he had to at least take enough for the first month or two of teaching. He wasn’t sure what Namwon would have in terms of educational supplies and he wasn’t going to show up empty handed. This was, in many ways, his redemption after all. He wasn’t going to mess it up.  
  
He estimated he had been walking for at least forty five minutes before he saw the first rice paddy, the few inches of water that remained in the field after the fall harvest frozen solid. It wasn’t a large plot, but sizable enough. An old woman was walking around the edges of the field, a large pack of charcoal on her back. Chanyeol watched her for a second before passing on, debating whether he should help her or not. _I said I would arrive today, I should probably be on time._ He passed the woman, bowing to her slightly as he continued on his way. She didn't seem to notice him, or if she did she didn’t pay him any mind.  
  
The mountains that loomed in the distance when he had arrived in Namwon grew closer with every step, the path grew more winding and uneven as the altitude increased. He passed small farms, little houses that couldn’t be called more than shacks in some cases- their walls leaning in, threatening to collapse at any moment. Frozen rice paddies dotted the land, giving the terrain an unusually uniform look as the bunds formed square borders as far as the eye could see.  
  
He looked for addresses, markers, anything to tell him he was on the right path. He began to panic when he saw nothing, the farms getting further and further apart. When he rounded a corner in the road and spotted the familiar dark green color of a military jacket he grew hopeful. The man who was wearing it disappeared into a building, thick smoke rising from the chimney of the structure.  
  
When he got closer to the house he realized the person had went into a hutch attached to the small building, likely where the heating stove was. Chanyeol felt awkward following someone like this, but he would rather impose than die frostbitten on a country road in North Jeolla.  
  
He found the man bent over, shoveling coal into the stove with a small tool. He was on the small side, and at first Chanyeol thought it might be a teenage boy.  
  
“Excuse me, sir, I’m sorry to impose but I–”  
  
The man startled at the intrusion. He tried to look behind him but lost his balance, falling to the ground in the process. The shovel went flying, clanking into the side of the hutch. Coal dust rose in the air in a plume, causing Chanyeol to cover his mouth to muffle his cough.  
  
Chanyeol muttered an apology the moment he could breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached to help the man up but was met with resistance and a large pair of very angry eyes.  
  
The man stared up at him, his wide eyes the deep black of coal. His lips were set in a line, a look of anger or perhaps disgust. His face was streaked with coal, his unevenly cut black hair sported its own fine dusting. He looked old and tired, Chanyeol thought.  
  
The man pushed himself up, refusing Chanyeol’s help. When he got to his feet he immediately tensed and felt his left leg, his hands smoothing down the thigh.  
  
“I’m terribly sorry. Are you injured?” Chanyeol bit his bottom lip, worried.  
  
The man looked up at the newcomer, scowling. “I’m hurt, but that isn’t anything new,” he spat.  
  
Chanyeol bowed deeply, apologizing again and again. When the man told him to stop he pulled out the address, still needing to find his way.  
  
“Do you know where I can find this place?” Chanyeol shoved the crumpled piece of paper at the man, hoping he could get a quick answer and be on his way before causing any more trouble.  
  
The man looked at the paper for a few seconds before looking up at Chanyeol. The man was smaller than him, to the point that he had to, at this distance, actually tilt his head slightly upwards to make eye contact. “That’s here.”  
  
Chanyeol swallowed. “Here?” he repeated.  
  
“You must be the new teacher.” The man looked him up and down, the most unnerving and judgmental appraisal Chanyeol ever received.  
  
“Uh, yes. I’m Park Chanyeol, nice to meet you.” Chanyeol bowed again.  
  
“You have the rent money?” The man asked.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good. If you go in the house my older sister will help you get settled.” The man narrowed his eyes. “Stay out of the fields and don’t break anything.”  
  
Chanyeol nodded.  
  
“Now go.”  
  
Chanyeol left immediately, not wanting to bother his new landlord any more than he already had. It was only later that he realized he hadn’t even gotten the man’s name.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol stood in front of the door, preparing to knock. As he left the hutch and made his way around the structure he immediately noticed that the house was larger and less rundown than the other farmhouses he had passed during his long walk. It was old, a covered traditional porch wrapping around the front. A curved tiled roof that looked well cared for topped it off. Hanji windows, darkened slightly by grime and soot, faced out towards the front of the building.  
  
Chanyeol moved his hand towards the door, taking a step back when it was suddenly thrown open. A child rushed out of the house, almost smacking into him. If he hadn’t moved back there would have been a collision.  
  
When the boy realized there was someone standing there he paused, blinking at the stranger in curiosity. His black hair was a mess, and there was some unidentifiable food smeared on his left cheek. His eyes were bright, full of mischief – a look that Chanyeol knew well from being around his young nephews and nieces.  
  
“Mom!” the child called, not looking away.  
  
A woman appeared in the doorway. The first thing that Chanyeol noticed about the woman– in fact the only thing he could notice at first– was what she was wearing. She was dressed in formal hanbok, her garment neatly pressed. It was a startling contrast to the house, to the boy and his food stained cheek. To the man who was covered in coal dust.  
  
She bowed deeply, which Chanyeol repeated.  
  
“You must be the boarder.” Her voice sounded distant, soft and emotionless. Her black hair was pulled into a neatly tied bun. She looked to be in her thirties, Chanyeol guessed, with a thin face that showed signs of a youthful beauty weighted down by a hard life.  
  
“Yes. I‘m Park Chanyeol.”  
  
“Please, come in.” The woman stepped aside. The child pulled on boots and ran off towards the frozen fields, seeming not to care who the man was now that his mother was there to handle it.  
  
Chanyeol slipped off his boots, setting them at the edge of the porch as he entered through the low doorway. The room he stepped into was a good size but cluttered. There was a wood table on the floor, threadbare cushions near it. A faded decorative room divider sat behind the furniture, the greens having long ago faded to a murky yellow color.  
  
Exposed wood beams lined the walls, broken up by earthen and straw packed walls that were painted the traditional white, which like the screen had faded into a cream color. The floor was polished to a high shine, it was evident that the home – despite the clutter – was well cared for. Boxes sat in one corner, a wooden chest with deep scratches in another. There was an old blanket laying on the floor, alongside a small metal toy plane.  
  
At the far end of the large room was the kitchen, Chanyeol spotted a gas burner and small stove in the corner, pots and pans were stacked nearby and a tall cupboard sat pushed against the wall. A radio was sitting near the cupboard, the antenna broken in half and hanging.  
  
“Your room is here.” She gestured for Chanyeol to follow her to a small hallway on the western side of the room. She stopped in front of a door, which creaked and stuck as she tried to push it open.  
  
“If you need more blankets tell me.” She left the door half open and retreated. Like it was an afterthought she turned back to him and bowed. “I’m Ji Hyo.” With that she was gone, entering the large living area and leaving him to face his new accommodations.  
  
Chanyeol stared into the dark, cramped quarters. The house smelled of food, of fish and something he couldn’t place. It was musty and very different from his parent’s house back in Seoul or his dorm in Busan. In many ways, he thought, he liked this better already.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
The sun was setting when the woman knocked on Chanyeol’s bedroom door. He had spent the afternoon organizing his things, getting lost in the little details of the books he had brought with him.  
  
“Dinner,” she called, not bothering to wait for Chanyeol to open the door.  
  
He pulled his thickest sweater over his head, unsure of what to expect when he left the small room. It was surprisingly warm in the main living area, the heated floors and enclosed area keeping in the warmth.  
  
When he stepped into the living area he found the table was already set. There were several small dishes set out, some that he recognized and some he did not. The child he encountered when he arrived was seated at the table, glancing from his mother to the food as he covertly snuck bites behind her back. When Chanyeol caught his eyes the boy looked away, his face rife with guilt.  
  
Ji Hyo walked from the kitchen with a large pot, setting it in the middle of the table. “Loach soup,” she explained. She was no longer dressed in the formal hanbok, her attire now was the dull grey hanbok that Chanyeol would have expected a farmer’s sister to wear.  
  
Chanyeol had never had loach soup. He eyed the dish with suspicion before taking a bowlful.  
  
“Is there anyone else joining us?” Chanyeol asked, thinking back to the man he had met when he arrived.  
  
“Perhaps,” Ji Hyo answered, scooping the soup into a bowl for the child.  
  
“My name is Baekhyun!” the child suddenly perked up, staring at Chanyeol expectantly.  
  
He smirked, returning the greeting. “I’m Park Chanyeol. It’s nice to meet you.” Chanyeol chuckled as the child instantly turned shy and hid his face in his mother’s hanbok.  
  
“I’m older than you, I’m guessing,” Ji Hyo mused. Her voice sounded clearer now, less burdened. “I was born in the year of the rooster.”  
  
“Ah, yes. I’m the year of the Monkey.” He sipped the soup, surprised at how savory it tasted.  
  
Chanyeol felt strange asking about it, but their short chat had seemed to ease the strange atmosphere a bit. “Is the man that was outside– is he, is he your brother?”  
  
Ji Hyo nodded. “My husband’s younger brother.”  
  
“Ah, I see.” Chanyeol tried to imagine how old her husband was to have the man he saw as a younger brother. He had looked ancient, his face stained with coal dust.  
  
“You’re going to build a school?” “Baekhyun asked suddenly, coming out of hiding and earning a reproving look from his mother.  
  
“Yes, I am.” Chanyeol was happy to talk about his purpose for coming to Namwon. “Will you be attending?”  
  
“I would like–”  
  
A door clanged shut. Chanyeol glanced towards the sound of the noise while Ji Hyo and the child ignored it. The man from before, Ji Hyo’s brother-in-law, walked towards them. His limp was pronounced, as though he was dragging his leg. Chanyeol wondered if he had acquired the injury during the war of if perhaps it was an older wound.  
  
“No, he won’t be attending. Not unless you give me another person to help harvest the rice come autumn.” The man’s expression was dark, grim even.  
  
Chanyeol noticed that Baekhyun’s lip jutted out, a frown forming as he looked at his Uncle.  He didn’t argue, however, staying quiet he returned to sipping his soup.  
  
“I’m Chanyeol,” he introduced himself again. He stood up and bowed deeply to the man, hoping to perhaps at least get his name.  
  
“Hm, so you said.” The man limped over to the unoccupied side of the table, lowering himself slowly to the floor. Ji Hyo began fixing him a plate as he carefully wiped his hands with a wet rag.  
  
Chanyeol felt foolish standing there, his greeting ignored. He sat down quickly, returning to his dinner.  
  
Chanyeol chanced a glance at the man, noticing that now his face wasn’t covered in grime his features were much different than Chanyeol had first thought. The wide eyes remained, of course, but the wrinkles that Chanyeol had seen were no more. He wasn’t middle aged or even old, his face was youthful, his cheeks still retaining a good deal of baby fat. He couldn’t be, Chanyeol guessed, much older than himself.  
  
His skin was tanned, likely from the sun. His hair was cut short and a little uneven, like a military cut that was finally given the chance to grow out. He had a few scars on his right cheek, small little marks that were barely noticeable. His lips were full. He was, Chanyeol supposed, unconventionally handsome - if a rude farmer were your thing, of course.  
  
“You’re from Seoul,” the man grunted as he shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth.  
  
“Yes,” Chanyeol confirmed.  
  
“Did you stay, during the war?” The man asked through chews, a few grains of rice falling onto his faded plaid shirt as he spoke.  
  
Chanyeol swallowed. “No, I was evacuated to Busan with the rest of the students.” He stared at his bowl of soup, the guilt creeping back. It had been there for the last year, replacing what had once been a misplaced sense of relief. He hadn’t fought in the war, he had been exempt due to his position as a student at Seoul National University. For three years that didn’t make him feel anything other than lucky, that was until he went back to Seoul and realized what had happened - the death and destruction he passed engraved in his mind. And he had done nothing to help all that time, sitting and taking classes as others his age fought and died. He was, he realized, a coward.  
  
What made it worse in his opinion was that he wasn’t even a consummate scholar. No, he had only gotten into university thanks to his father’s money. He didn’t even deserve to be exempted because in the end he couldn’t even profess to have the educational prowess that had earned an exemption.  
  
That is how he had started on this journey to Namwon. A sense of guilt, a declaration of his own cowardice, and some advice from his professor. He would, in his own little way, do what he had avoided - he would help his country. When he learned Namwon no longer had functioning schools after the war, all destroyed in the fighting, he offered to go down and set one up. To help. To do the little that he could even if it wasn’t enough in the grand scheme of things. He could start small, and work to bigger things– he needed to redeem himself.  
  
The farmer, it seemed, shared his general assessment of his actions. “You took the easy way out, didn’t you?” The man looked disgusted as he gazed at Chanyeol.  
  
“Yes, I did,” Chanyeol agreed.  
  
The man raised his eyebrows, apparently shocked at his agreement. “You're a coward,” the farmer stated, with a bite to his words. “I hate cowards.”  
  
Chanyeol stared down at his soup, unable to form a response.  
  
They ate in silence for the rest of the dinner, Chanyeol excusing himself to go to his room after the man limped out the front door.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol woke up before the sun rose, the land still dark, the cold still bone numbing with the lack of light. He dressed and milled about his room, pouring over a few of his books until he heard someone up in the other part of the house. He planned to walk back into the village that day, he had someone to meet regarding the construction of the school. He meant to leave mid-morning, but now that he was wide awake he considered leaving earlier and taking a stroll around town before his meeting.  
  
He found Ji Hyo in the kitchen, clicking on the small gas burner. When she heard him she turned around and nodded in greeting.  
  
“Do you need any help?” Chanyeol asked, feeling listless.  
  
“You can bring in some more gas, it is outside near the shed.” She instructed. Chanyeol walked to the door and pulled on his jacket. He was about to open the door when heard the sound that he now recognized as the farmer walking, his injured leg dragging with each stride forward.  
  
“I can do it,” the man grunted. He already had a thick padded jacket on, his pants tucked into his boots as he headed for the door.  
  
Chanyeol stepped aside, watching him silently.  
  
“Don’t mind Kyungsoo,” Ji Hyo called once the door had slammed after the farmer. “He’s a good man.”  
  
Kyungsoo. It was the first time that Chanyeol had gotten a name. He walked to the kitchen, standing near the cupboard he folded his arms across his chest. He watched as Ji Hyo opened a sack of vegetables. He was slightly surprised at the amount of food they seemed to have, considering the shortages that were rampant. He found some consolation that they were well fed.  
  
 After a few minutes he asked a question that was eating at him. “Is there anything I can do so he doesn’t hate me?” It was probably to blunt of a question considering he was staying in their house. Yet he felt like Ji Hyo wouldn’t take offense.  
  
“He doesn’t hate you.” Ji Hyo answered, pulling a few onions out of the sack. “He’s had a lot happen to him, as we all have. He isn’t keen on trusting anyone at the moment. His words can be blunt and sound mean, but he doesn’t mean it. Not really.”  
  
Chanyeol knew that he had reached his limits on what was suitable to ask about, even if his previous query was bordering on rude. “I’m going to go into the village.” Chanyeol muttered, pulling on his jacket and heading out.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
He heard the truck before he saw it. He wasn’t well versed in mechanics but from the sheer volume of the vehicle he guessed the muffler wasn’t functioning properly.  
  
It was a rusty blue truck which looked like it had seen far better days, moving side to side as it drove over the rough country road. Chanyeol stepped away from the road and onto the snowy ground, not entirely confident the road was wide enough for both a vehicle and a man.  
  
He shoved his gloved hands in his pockets, and put his head down to brace himself against the wind. It was a biting cold day in the countryside.  
  
The truck got louder as it approached, finally sounding like a small tank as it passed by him. Chanyeol didn't realize it had stopped until he was side by side with the truck. He looked over to see who the driver was. It was his landlord, his hands gripping the big black steering wheel in the 2 and 10 position. He nodded for Chanyeol to get in which took the other man by surprise. Why would Kyungsoo willingly stop to pick him up?  
  
A strong gust of chilling wind stopped Chanyeol from wondering any longer. He opened the truck door and scooted in, slamming the creaking metal door after him.  
  
“‘I’ll give you a ride into town.” Kyungsoo shifted the truck back into gear, not bothering to look over at his passenger.  
  
“Thank you,” Chanyeol replied, turning his head to look out the window. They were silent for the rest of the drive.  
  
   
  
   
  
Kyungsoo stopped his truck in what Chanyeol assumed was the center of town, near a marketplace and numerous storefronts.  
  
“I will be back in an hour.” Kyungsoo got out of the truck, seemingly indicating that if Chanyeol was back in that time good, if not it wasn’t his concern.  
  
Chanyeol opened the creaking truck door and alighted the vehicle. He was once again tasked with finding an address, though this time around he hoped it would involve a lot less walking. His professor had told him that another recent graduate was in Namwon helping with the rebuilding efforts, a man by the name of Kim Jongdae. Chanyeol had never met him, but already felt a kinship with him on the basis they were both from SNU and both in a new place doing what they could.  
  
He needed to find Jongdae, but more importantly he needed to meet with the village head. “Eun Ji Won,” Chanyeol repeated. That was the man he needed to see.  
  
He walked down the road towards the marketplace, passing by soot stained buildings displaying a wide variety of structural integrity. A few of the stores were nothing more than a shell, others had boarded up windows while some looked– aside from bullet holes– remarkably unscathed.  
  
When he reached the end of the road he found himself in a throng of people, young and old, going about their business. He saw the familiar ration boxes, the cheap food that the Americans had provided so the population wouldn’t starve. After years of war, food, especially nutritious food, wasn’t always easy to come by. He scanned the area, hoping to see some sort of city hall. When he spotted a metal sign with the characters painted on he headed that way.  
  
Namwon’s city hall had the telltale marks of the Japanese occupation– a starkly western inspired design sticking out like a sore thumb next to the more traditional buildings. It was probably built during that time, Chanyeol thought, wondering how long the building would end up standing. He saw numerous buildings of the sort torn down in Seoul and Busan in an effort to get rid of such painful reminders of the crushing occupation.  
  
When he walked inside he paused for a moment, scanning the roughly written list of suites in the building. He found Eun Ji won’s name and followed the signs to his office. Three knocks on the door later and he was face to face with the village head, a man in his fifties with a youthful expression and a hearty laugh.  
  
“Park Chanyeol, sir.” Chanyeol bowed deeply. “Professor Kim Junmyeon sent me. I recently graduated from Seoul National University. I’m here about the school.”  
  
The village head gave Chanyeol the once over before inviting him in. “Aren’t you young to be a teacher?” He remarked as he rounded his desk, taking a seat and gesturing for Chanyeol to do the same.  
  
“I’m 22, sir,” Chanyeol responded, shifting in the hard wooden chair.  
  
“Ah, well yes, I suppose if you can die for the country why can’t you teach for the country.” Eun Ji Won smirked.  
  
Chanyeol nodded, grasping his hands together tightly.  
  
“So what business do we have to work out?” The village head began digging in a stack of paperwork that was perched precariously close to the edge of his desk.  
  
“Professor Kim told me to meet with you regarding the construction.” Chanyeol recalled his professor giving him the information the last time he saw him, right before the middle aged man gave him a big pat on the back and told him good luck.  
  
“Right, right.” The man pulled a paper out of the stack, scanning it before pushing it across the desk towards Chanyeol. “The location of the school will be at the northern edge of the village. I have a local construction team lined up to start building. Funds are coming from the reconstruction amounts ceded to the city not that any of that matters to you. You will help the team with the construction. I think our timeline for completion is…” Eun Ji Won glanced at the small calendar on his wall, “June, classes to start In August. Now I know that not having a school for eight months might give you ideas about teaching the children elsewhere for the time being, but don’t consider it. We need all the hands we can get to rebuild at the moment, children included. They’re plenty busy for the next few months without sitting down to learn their characters.”  
  
Chanyeol nodded to show that he understood.  
  
“Do you know where this is?” The man tapped the paper. When Chanyeol said no the village head sighed. “I suppose I can take you over there. That other student – Kim Jong...Jongdae I think it was should already be there.”  
  
Chanyeol thanked him, waiting patiently as the man went to grab his jacket and a wool fedora.  
  
As they walked through the village, Eun Ji Won talked nonstop– pointing out people, stores, or houses, each with a story. Chanyeol respected how much he seemed to love the village, proud of every square foot of the place. He listened intently, wanting to know as much about the place he would teach at as possible. This would, for an indefinite time, be his home after all.  
  
“You’re staying at the Do farm, aren’t you?” The man asked as they began a hike up a steep dirt road. He didn’t wait for Chanyeol to answer before he remarked, “Well of course you are, I set that up with that professor of yours! Forgive this old man.” He winked at Chanyeol.  
  
Chanyeol smiled, beginning to like the playful side of the older man.  
  
“How is it, staying there I mean?” Ji Won asked.  
  
Chanyeol wasn’t sure what the right response was. _Well the owner is an angry man and I have no idea what to do_ seemed to be inappropriate. Thankfully Ji Won started talking without waiting for Chanyeol’s answer.  
  
“If Kyungsoo seems rough around the edges, don’t pay him any mind. After what happened to his parents and what he saw in the war he came back a changed boy.”  
  
“What happened?” Chanyeol asked, following it up with, “If you don’t mind telling me, sir.”  
  
“Ah, sure you have noticed that limp. His leg was almost taken off by a bullet. When he got home he found the farm half destroyed, fields ruined, and his parents dead. That sister of his, how she managed to survive…” Eun Ji Won shook his head as if he couldn't even fathom it. “Namwon was a tug of war, back and forth it was occupied and then freed. The last time we saw the commies they left a lot of remnants if you know what I mean. By the time the Americans pushed up from Busan half the village was working the other side. Turned out they thought the Dos were too, arrested them and hung them before anyone could say anything to prove otherwise. Happened to a lot of people in these parts.”  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t imagine the pain of losing his parents in such a way, not to mention sporting his own injury due to intense fighting. Thinking about the horrors that Kyungsoo had probably seen sobered him, made him think of the man in a slightly different light.  
  
“They’re a proud family. That farm of theirs– one of the only farms around here owned by the people who farm it. Has been for generations. That pride, I think it makes it worse for them.”  
  
Chanyeol might not know a lot about farming but he, along with most people in Korea, knew that the majority of farms in the country were not owned by those who worked the land. Most farmers were tenants, paying rent to an absent landlord in the form of money or produce. The fact Kyungsoo’s family owned the farm was, in many ways, impressive.  
  
“His brother, he died early on. I would say his story is unique but it isn’t, half the city lost someone and if they didn’t they at least lost everything they own.” Ji Won exhaled sharply. “It makes you wonder - if this place is doomed. How long has it been for this land to go unscarred? How long has it been…” he trailed off, sadness in his eyes.  
  
Chanyeol changed the subject, wanting to alleviate some of the man’s sorrow. “How many students are there?”  
  
The village head paused for a moment before answering. “A few thousand, maybe more.”  
  
Chanyeol hadn’t realized there were so many, yet in a way it made sense. Namwon seemed to be a lot smaller than Seoul, but it wasn’t miniscule either. A mid-sized village, with enough households to produce that many students. He had learned before coming here that there had been half a dozen schools before the war. In time, Chanyeol presumed, there would be just as many rebuilt. But for now, as a start, one school building would have to suffice.  
  
“Ah, here we are.” Ji Won pointed down the road. Chanyeol spotted some men moving about, a pile of lumber sitting near the edge of the dirt road. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to come see me. I appreciate what you’re doing for the city.”  
  
Chanyeol thanked him before heading off towards the site. When he arrived he found half a dozen younger men working on laying out the boards, pencils tucked behind their ears as they chatted about measurements and plans. Chanyeol introduced himself as the new teacher and their brand new helper. A few of the men gave him looks that were outright suspicious.  
  
“Are you sure you can sling a hammer?” One of the men questioned him, raking his eyes up and down the newcomer as if he was appraising his abilities by sight alone. The man was shorter than Chanyeol, with longer black hair that was parted in the middle. He had high cheekbones and expressive eyes. If the word mischief could be equated to a set of features, this was it.  
  
“I shall do my best, “Chanyeol promised.  
  
“You look like one of those snobby college kids, never saw a day of hardship in your life.” The man put his hands on his hips. Chanyeol heard a few of the men snicker, when he looked towards them they looked away. This was going great, he thought, wonderful start. He stood tall, hoping to at least convey a sense of confidence even though he was falling apart inside.  
  
“I’m dedicated to building the school,” Chanyeol said firmly.  
  
The man sighed, then turned around. More snickers from the men. Chanyeol startled when the man turned around suddenly, a wide smile on his face. He laughed loudly, walking up to the newcomer and slapping his arm. “I was just kidding! Kim Jongdae by the way. Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out in greeting. Chanyeol looked at it dumbly before taking it.  
  
“Sorry, we um, thought it would be funny to haze the new guy.” Jongdae laughed. “You should have seen your face.”  
  
Chanyeol was pretty sure he was bright red by now, his cheeks warm as he tried to imagine what kind of first impression he had made– looking so serious and depressed. “Very funny.” Perhaps humor in kind would help.  
  
“It really was,” Jongdae agreed.  
  
Chanyeol sighed. He had a feeling that his time with Jongdae and the rest of the building crew would be interesting, if nothing else.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
A few hours later Chanyeol headed back to the farm, having spent the preceding time learning about basic construction equipment while fending off Jongdae’s sarcastic nature. He found that the more time he spent with Jongdae the more he got to like him, finding his humorous personality to be refreshing. They had gone over the plans, though Chanyeol couldn’t claim to totally understand them. Jongdae pretended like he did, earning a few stares from the lead carpenter when he offered suggestions.  
  
As they broke for the day, Jongdae invited Chanyeol to have dinner with him– soon. “Just not tonight, because the landlady said she is making Samhap and I don’t want to share.”  
  
Chanyeol chuckled. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have Jongdae as tenant. His fellow recent graduate was staying with an older woman in the village, part of his room and board came with helping her around the house after he got back from working on the school.  
  
“And you don’t help on the farm you’re staying at?” Jongdae asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Chanyeol stuttered a response that he didn’t, earning a punch to the arm from Jongdae. “I was just joking. Geez, so serious.”  
  
After three hours with Jongdae, Chanyeol felt energized by his humor. He would have liked to have seen more of the man, but it was time to return to his temporary lodgings. He pulled his jacket tightly around him and slipped his gloved hands in his pockets, preparing himself for the long walk back to the farm.  
  
When he passed through the market he was surprised to see a familiar figure, unmistakable due to the limp. The farmer was coming out of a building that operated as a bank. Chanyeol watched him for a moment before realizing if Kyungsoo was still in town that meant he could get a ride. Without further ado he jogged through the market, reaching the rusty blue truck before the farmer.  
  
When Kyungsoo arrived at the vehicle he looked surprised to see Chanyeol waiting, but he didn't say anything. He wordlessly got in the truck, waiting for Chanyeol to do the same.  
  
Once again their drive was accompanied by silence.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol found that his new routine was relatively easy to fall into. Perhaps it was his unabashed eagerness that made all the pieces fit so seamlessly. He woke up early, before the sun rose. After a quick meal and a chat with Ji Hyo he would set off towards the village, arriving just as the other workers did. He spent the day learning the building trade and trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to not mess anything up. In the evening he made the return walk, exhausted and starving. After eating a quick dinner– usually swallowed fast enough to allow him to avoid Kyungsoo’s arrival, he would slump into bed and start it all over the next day.  
  
After the first six days of working, his routine firmly set, Chanyeol found himself with a day off. “We don’t work on Sunday, believe it or not,” Jongdae had informed him as they cleaned up the day before. “Which means it is an excellent day to come to town and hang out.”  
  
Chanyeol had agreed to meet Jongdae that afternoon, which gave him something to do for at least part of the day. The morning, however, was free. He attempted to sleep later than he normally did, but that didn’t work. Not when his body clock had gotten used to his new schedule. He was up before the sun rose, the sound of Ji Hyo moving about the kitchen telling him that breakfast was being made.  
  
He pulled on a sweater and left his room, having grown used to the morning chats he had with the woman. They were never that in depth, or about anything in particular, but it was still a nice bit of companionship that he could look forward to.  
  
“Up early on your day off?” she called over her shoulder, knowing full well who was up. She was bent over a heavy iron pot, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon.  
  
“Yes, I guess I don’t know how to sleep late anymore.” Chanyeol dragged his hand through his tangled hair, yawning. He walked over to the small table and sat, leaning his back against the wall he relished in the feeling of the heated floors.  
  
“What are you planning on doing today?” Ji Hyo asked, still focusing on the soup as she spoke.  
  
“I’m going to town this afternoon,” Chanyeol answered. “Not sure about this morning.”  
  
The pitter patter of feet got Chanyeol’s attention, it was unusual at this time of morning. Baekhyun came running out from the hallway that sat at the far end of the room, his hair a complete mess, his shirt askew, and his face puffy from sleep. “You can play with me today if you aren’t busy!”  
  
Chanyeol laughed at the child’s boundless energy. “What are you doing up so early?”  
  
“Um…” Baekhyun looked sheepish. He turned and ran to his mother, tugging at her skirts to get her attention. When she bent down he whispered something in her ear.  
  
“Again?!” Ji Hyo sounded upset.  
  
Baekhyun nodded, before turning and running towards the small table. “I wet the bed!” he announced, as though it was something to be proud of.  
  
“Did you?” Chanyeol tried not to sound too amused by it, lest Ji Hyo turn her glare on him.  
  
“Yup.” Baekhyun rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists. “Can I call you uncle? Uncle, can we go play outside?”  
  
Chanyeol looked to Ji Hyo helplessly. She wasn’t paying any attention.  
  
“Um, yes if your mother says it is alright.”  
  
“She will because she loves me!” Baekhyun leapt up and ran to ask his mother. Sure enough, she said yes. Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile at how Ji Hyo’s anger dissipated the moment her son was standing next to her, telling her that she was his favorite person and she should really let him go play with uncle since he didn’t mean to wet the bed. It almost made him feel homesick until he remembered his childhood was not nearly as affectionate.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
“Do you think she likes me?” Jongdae whispered across the table, doing his best not to stare at the waitress. Chanyeol turned around to see the woman, having not paid her much mind as she had taken their order. “Don’t look!” Jongdae hissed, reaching out and forcefully turning Chanyeol’s head away.  
  
“Um, I don’t know.” Chanyeol shrugged.  
  
“I think she does.” Jongdae sat back, a smug look on his face. They had decided to eat at a little restaurant in town, one famed for its loach soup and even more renowned for remaining intact throughout the battles that raged around it. The menu was light, the food full of canned alternatives – no meat in sight. But it was something, it was somewhere that made it almost feel like it was before the war.  
  
And Chanyeol couldn’t complain, the rice was delicious. He shoved a spoonful of it into his mouth, earning a punch to the arm from Jongdae. “You’re no help!”  
  
“What am I supposed to say?!” Chanyeol barked, rice falling out of his mouth.  
  
“I don’t know, tell me to go for it or something,” Jongdae reproved.  
  
Chanyeol rolled his eyes. Jongdae could be exhausting. “Go for it or something.”  
  
“Fine, I will.” He got up from the table and approached the waitress, who was busy collecting dishes. Chanyeol couldn’t hear their conversation nor did he particularly care. He went about eating his rice, only stopping when Jongdae returned a couple minutes later with a dejected look on his face.  
  
“She has a husband,” Jongdae sighed. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”  
  
“Do you think you have time for a girlfriend right now?” Chanyeol asked, knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to date anyone at the moment.  
  
“Chanyeol, we are in the city of lovers. Does it matter if I don't have time?” Jongdae shot him an annoyed look.  
  
“City of lovers? Isn’t that Paris?” Chanyeol had read as much, or at least he thought he had read as much during one of his literature classes back at University.  
  
“Please don’t tell me you’re ignorant of the story of Chunhyang?”  
  
Chanyeol recognized the name. It was a pansori, a folktale that...he couldn’t recall. “I’ve heard of it,” he shot back.  
  
“Right, which is why you look so confused.” Jongdae clucked his tongue, “And you call yourself a Korean.”  
  
“I don't remember it!” Chanyeol protested, slumping over his rice bowl.  
  
“Well, it took place in Namwon, hence this is the city of love. There is a bunch of romantic mumbo jumbo, a token of love, but the most relevant fact is it happened here. We are, my friend, in the perfect place for love.”  
  
The waitress returned at that moment with their soup, stopping Jongdae from speaking any further about love. HIs face turned bright red as he averted his eyes, looking away until she retreated. The rest of their dinner was spent talking about subjects that Chanyeol found far more relatable. Love was, and for the most part, always had been the furthest thing from his mind. In fact he often thought it was impossible for him.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
It was midway through January when the snowstorm hit, the biggest snowfall that had occurred since Chanyeol had arrived. It made his daily walks nearly impossible, giving him anxiety over how he would end up working until the snow was cleared.  
  
“Kyungsoo can give you a ride,” Ji Hyo volunteered her brother in law, giving Chanyeol pause. He had successfully avoided the man for the last couple of weeks, always finding an excuse to retreat to his room if he happened to hear Kyungsoo approaching.  
  
He would have turned the ride down if he could walk, but that wasn’t a possibility. Unless he wanted to stay at the farm it was his only shot at getting to the village.  
  
When Kyungsoo limped into the room for breakfast Ji Hyo informed him that he would be giving a ride to Chanyeol. The farmer eyed Ji Hyo with disdain before sitting down, neither confirming nor denying if he would comply.  
  
Chanyeol snuck glances at the man as he ate his breakfast, the first time since he had arrived he had actually taken the time to savor it instead of scarfing it down so he wouldn't have to see Kyungsoo. The farmer looked dazed, tired– and angry. He always looked angry.  
  
“I’m leaving in ten minutes.” It was the only thing he said before pushing his half empty bowl of rice across the table and getting up.  
  
Chanyeol went to retrieve his boots and jacket. A loud noise sounded, which Chanyeol belatedly realized was the truck backfiring. He jumped, looking back to see Ji Hyo frozen in the middle of the room, staring towards the door. She turned around and went back towards the kitchen, leaving Chanyeol to get ready.  
  
When he emerged from his room a couple minutes later he found the woman standing in the kitchen in her formal hanbok, having changed in the time he was busy getting himself ready. When he told her goodbye he was met with silence, the usual cheery goodbye nowhere to be found.  
  
He debated asking Kyungsoo what the hanbok meant during their drive, but he thought better of it when the man pointedly ignored him yet again.  
  
   
  
   
  
It started to snow again that evening. The roads weren’t cleared and Kyungsoo had made it clear the ride he had given Chanyeol was one way only.  
  
“You can stay with me,” Jongdae announced, throwing his arm over the taller man and trying to drag him into a friendly headlock. So began a four day stint sleeping in the small room Jongdae rented in town. It was, Chanyeol thought, one of the noisiest times he had ever had.  
  
Jongdae liked to stay up late– how he managed to work the next day was a mystery to Chanyeol. He would listen to his small radio, chatting and playing cards until the wee hours of the morning. Chanyeol slept little, unable to fall into slumber with Jongdae crooning the words to the newest trot song.  
  
Still, it wasn’t all bad. Having someone to talk to beyond Ji Hyo and Baekhyun was nice (even if Jongdae like to talk about some odd things sometimes). By the third night, Chanyeol had started to pick up a theme, and that was Jongdae was most definitely looking for a girlfriend. The time back at the restaurant hadn’t just been opportunistic, it had been Jongdae on a long and well thought out mission.  
  
“So you want to get married yesterday?” Chanyeol stared up at the ceiling. He was lying flat on his back, Jongdae lying a few feet from him. “You just graduated. Are your parents that eager for grandkids?”  
  
“Ah no.” Jongdae didn't sound depressed when he explained, “My family died during the war. I’m the last one left. I suppose I should carry on the family line and all that.”  
  
Chanyeol felt like shit for ever having laughed at Jongdae chasing women.  I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Chanyeol repeated in his mind as he drifted off to sleep, the strains of a trot song playing softly on Jongdae’s radio. The image of a certain farmer invaded his mind. “People shouldn’t judge me so quickly either,” he whispered.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
The first person Chanyeol encountered when he returned to the Do farm was Baekhyun. The child was running across one of the snow covered rice paddies, his nose running and his cheeks flush from the cold. When he saw Chanyeol walking up the road he waved and ran for him.  
  
Chanyeol had wondered how everyone was doing in his absence, seeing Baekhyun as lively and playful as ever offered some relief.  
  
“Uncle! Uncle!” Baekhyun rushed right into him, hugging Chanyeol’s legs (much to his surprise). “You came back!”  
  
“Of course I came back.” Chanyeol ruffled Baekhyun’s hair. “Have you been good while I was gone?”  
  
“Yep.” The boy detached himself from Chanyeol’s legs and then grabbed for his hand. He began tugging the teacher towards the farmhouse. “Mom made treats now that she’s better!”  
  
“Was she ill?” Chanyeol wondered out loud.  
  
Baekhyun stopped tugging on Chanyeol’s hand long enough to look up at the man and give him a sassy stare. “She was sick again, like before, but she’s better now.”  
  
Chanyeol didn’t like the sound of that. To be sick and stranded in a snowstorm had to be horrible.  
  
“Was it the cough?” Chanyeol wasn't sure why he was asking the child, it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t see Ji Hyo in a moment and have the opportunity to ask her himself. Perhaps he sought the honesty of the child, who wouldn’t hide anything from him.  
  
“No, no. Like before.” Baekhyun stomped his foot in frustration. “You know, how she is. When she thinks Dad is back and she wears that fancy hanbok.”  
  
Chanyeol remembered seeing her put on the formal hanbok the morning he had left. So it was something that was tied to this illness– which by all accounts sounded like some sort of trauma induced episode. Something that dwelt in her mind. But as the village head had said when Chanyeol first arrived, there were very few people anymore that didn’t bear the scars of war in some way. Ji Hyo’s scars, it appeared, were in her memories, the pain coming back to haunt her.  
  
Chanyeol let Baekhyun drag him the rest of the way to the farmhouse, only stopping the boy when they arrived at the porch. “Go in, I need to take my boots off,” Chanyeol instructed. Baekhyun opened the door and bounded in, calling out that Chanyeol was back.  
  
Chanyeol found it strange that after having only been in Namwon for a matter of weeks he was already feeling like this place was home, like this farm somehow offered a comfort nowhere else in the city did. Or maybe spending a few nights not sleeping due to Jongdae’s blabbering had finally gotten to him. He walked up on the porch and was about to toe his boots off when he heard a noise. He looked to his left, towards the hutch that contained the coal stove. It was muffled, whatever sort of sound it was. Faint but noticeable.  
  
Chanyeol crept towards the sound, curious if there was an animal that had gotten into the hutch. He imagined that Kyungsoo would probably beat the thing dead if it had tampered with the stove or any of the equipment. He was about to enter the hutch when he stopped, ducking back around the corner.  
  
The noise he had heard was crying, the low and muffled sound of a man sobbing into his scarf. That man was Kyungsoo.  
  
Chanyeol returned to the porch as quietly as possible, slipping off his boots and heading inside, pretending like he hadn’t seen or heard a thing.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol found the photograph by accident. He had been helping Ji Hyo one evening, collecting the vegetable waste as she put together a stew. He went to throw the contents into the compost pile at the back of the house, which had him passing by the hutch. He spotted something lying on the ground and forever curious he bent down to pick it up.  
  
It was a black and white photograph, probably at least five years old judging by how aged it looked. It was of two men. Chanyeol was certain one of them was Kyungsoo, the other must be his older brother, the resemblance was too uncanny to ignore. They were standing in front of the farmhouse, wide smiles on their faces. It was definitely taken before the war.  
  
Seeing Kyungsoo look so happy was slightly disorienting. The smiling teenager in the photograph bore little resemblance to the hardened man that Chanyeol encountered on a daily basis. In many ways Chanyeol felt guilty about finding the photograph, like he was intruding in a memory that he had no place in. He set the picture back down on the ground and hurried to the compost pile. When he walked back to the house the picture was still there. The next morning it was gone.  
  
Later that evening Chanyeol thought about his own photos, the dozens of formal pictures his parents had made him and his sister sit for over the years. Did he ever look that genuinely happy? Was he ever as genuinely happy as Kyungsoo looked in that single photo?  
  
He didn’t think he ever was. Not truly happy. Perhaps carefree, but happiness and a lack of stress are two different things.  
  
One thing was for certain, the picture didn’t leave his mind for many days. In a strange way it only made him want to know more about Kyungsoo. And the way he was starting to think about the man like a puzzle to be solved slightly scared him.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
It was the last day of January, a frigid and dry day that had Chanyeol hesitant to leave his warm bed in the morning. Eventually his sense of responsibility won out, dragging him from his warm cocoon and into the main living space of the farmhouse. After sucking down breakfast in an attempt to avoid Kyungsoo, he found himself tensing as he heard the familiar sound of the farmer’s walk.  
  
“You should give Chanyeol a ride home since you will be in town today,” Ji Hyo told the man as he walked towards the dining table.  
  
“When is Chanyeol going to pay me for gas?” Kyungsoo spat, lowering himself to the floor.  
  
If it was any other day (well, aside from during a snowstorm) Chanyeol would have muttered he didn't need a ride and left, setting out on his long walk. But this day was not one to make him motivated.  
  
“I can pay you for the gas,” Chanyeol stated, earning a reproving look from Kyungsoo.  
  
“I’ll be by the market at four,” Kyungsoo mumbled, not bothering to make eye contact.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
They were halfway home when the truck began to chug, jerking unnaturally before stopping altogether. Kyungsoo tried the ignition two times but the thing wouldn’t start. Finally he started beating on the steering wheel in frustration.  
  
Chanyeol felt useless, his limited mechanical knowledge combined with the fact Kyungsoo was driving him home giving him an extra sense of guilt.  
  
“The engine probably froze,” Kyungsoo opened the rusty truck door and jumped out, swearing under his breath as he walked around to lift the hood.  
  
Chanyeol opened the door and got out, feeling guilty sitting in the semi warm vehicle while Kyungsoo was out in the cold fiddling with the engine.  
  
He walked around to peer at the metal block– hoses and belts and cylinders that were as much a mystery to him as the man who was banging on them.  
  
“Looks like the carburetor is shot,” Kyungsoo hissed. He hit the rod that held the hood up, letting the heavy metal plate fall into place with a bang.  
  
“Is that something you can fix easily?” Chanyeol asked, not sure what a carburetor was or what went into making sure it was working.  
  
“No.” Kyungsoo glared at the taller man for a moment before pushing past him, limping down the dirt road.  
  
Chanyeol pulled his green jacket around himself, the fabric sporting a few new rips courtesy of working on the jobsite that day. He would patch them later, for now they were one more thing to add onto the cold.  
  
He jogged to catch up with Kyungsoo, walking a few steps behind him as they trudged along the road. The sun was starting to set, but the land was not yet dark. Thankfully they had some light, a walk home in the pitch dark freezing temperature would be even nastier than their current situation.  
  
They had been walking for about ten minutes when they passed a farmhouse, a curl of grey smoke rising up from the chimney. Chanyeol noticed how Kyungsoo looked at the building a little longer than he had looked at anything else they had passed.  
  
“Kyungsoo!” A woman called the farmer’s name, making Chanyeol squint to see where she was. He hadn’t seen anyone around the farmhouse.  
  
A younger woman rounded the corner of the house, her body wrapped tightly in an oversized coat. She had chubby cheeks, small eyes, and a wide, uneven smile. And– Chanyeol was most certain of this– she looked absolutely ecstatic to see Kyungsoo. She bounded over without a care for the snow or the ice that she travelled over.  
  
Chanyeol glanced at Kyungsoo, noticing how the farmer looked away and let out a heavy sigh.  
  
“Kyungsoo! What are you doing here? It is too cold for you to be out.” She stopped in front of the farmer, not even sparing Chanyeol a glance.  
  
“My truck broke down.” Kyungsoo’s tone was flat.  
  
“Oh no! I can see if Papa can give you a ride or maybe he can fix the truck for you!” She had turned around, ready to presumably run off to wherever her father was, when Kyungsoo reached forward and gripped her arm to stop her.  
  
“It’s fine, I can manage.” Kyungsoo’s words came out gentler than before.  
  
“I don't like you walking in this cold. You need to take care of yourself.” The girl seemed to realize there was someone else there, peering behind Kyungsoo towards Chanyeol. She gave him a suspicious once over. “Who is this?”  
  
“This is my boarder, Park Chanyeol.”  
  
Chanyeol bowed deeply, the girl did as well.  
  
“I’m Seungyoon. I have known Kyungsoo forever, we have a bit of long relationship.” She emphasized the last word, there was possessiveness in her speech.  
  
“Ah, so you’re the girl that he’s always talking about!” Chanyeol shouldn’t have done it, not really. But something about the way Kyungsoo was squirming, looking deeply uncomfortable while his face turned bright red made Chanyeol want to joke.  
  
“You talk about me?” Seungyoon looked at the farmer, veritable stars in her eyes.  
  
“Um, no. I– that is someone else.” Kyungsoo coughed. “We must be going now, have a nice day.”  
  
Kyungsoo walked off as quickly as he could. Chanyeol hurried to catch up, glancing back one to see the girl watching them, her bottom lip downturned in a pout.  
  
After walking for a few minutes, when they were well out of sight of the girl, Kyungsoo turned on Chanyeol and punched him in the arm. “Why did you do that?!”  
  
The punch hurt, but it was no match for the humor that Chanyeol found in the situation. He burst out laughing, remembering the look on Kyungsoo’s face and the way he so coldly shot the girl down. “You’re so cold, you charmer.”  
  
Kyungsoo sighed, then relaxed. He muttered, “She had it coming.”  
  
“It was funny,” Chanyeol admitted.  
  
“Yes, it kind of was funny, wasn’t it?” Kyungsoo’s lips twitched, like he was fighting against the humor in the situation. When the farmer broke into a small smile Chanyeol felt his chest tighten. It was like the photograph, but a thousand times better.  
  
It was like the simple expression changed everything about Kyungsoo. His eyes lit up, his youth, which wasn’t done any favors by his normally hard expression, was now more than apparent. And, while Chanyeol had known Kyungsoo was handsome in some way, he could recognize he was quite beautiful when he wasn’t scowling.  
  
As January turned to February, Chanyeol realized how much he liked to see Kyungsoo smile.  
  
   
  
   
  
**FEBRUARY 1954**  
  
   
  
Three days after the truck incident, Chanyeol purchased a train ticket. It would be lunar New Year in another day and even if he would be happy staying in Namwon he knew his father would never let him. A telegram made that much clear - that if Chanyeol didn’t come back voluntarily someone would be down to fetch him.  
  
He packed up a few of his clothes and a book in his duffle bag before letting Ji Hyo know he would be gone for a few days. She had her hands full with Baekhyun getting into everything that she was attempting to prepare for the holiday, so she simply nodded and told him to enjoy.  
  
He passed Kyungsoo on his way down the road, the farmer was toiling about the rice paddies– doing what, Chanyeol wasn’t sure. He had been at it for the past couple of days, heading out and measuring, inspecting, and whatever else it was that kept him outdoors from the time Chanyeol left in the morning until at least an hour after he came back.  
  
Ever since he had seen that small smile Kyungsoo had seemed even more distant from him, even less talkative, even sterner with his looks. Chanyeol felt like he had glimpsed something he shouldn’t have– the human portion of this man– and Kyungsoo was trying to make up for it.  
  
“If he ever knew I saw him crying that day,” Chanyeol muttered as he yelled out a goodbye and waved at the farmer. Kyungsoo didn't look up from his work, blatantly ignoring him.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol stared at the glasses of expensive brandy perched on the silver tray– wondering how they had purchased such a luxury item while also trying to calculate how many hungry people could be fed with that same amount of money.  
  
Soft piano music filled the large gathering room of the Park residence. Chanyeol had been back in Seoul for two days, past the New Year. The first day he had been filial, going through the New Year rituals as he had his entire life (except for when he was in Busan and his parents and sister in Japan). Now this, his last day in town, he had other things expected of him.  
  
“We are having a get together with friends. I expect you to greet our guests, you’re the son of this family,” His father had instructed, there wasn’t an option to say no.  
  
Chanyeol found that his tuxedo, which was made a year ago, was now loose on him. He had lost weight walking so much back in Namwon. He slicked his hair back and - most importantly - passed his mother’s inspection before being allowed to mingle with their esteemed guests.  
  
Once the party started he trailed after his parents, trying not to look bored as his mother and father hobnobbed with the other families that had somehow made it out of the war with their fortunes generally intact. When, almost an hour after they arrived, he spotted his sister and her husband walking across the ballroom, he couldn’t help but feel relieved.  
  
“If it isn’t the antithesis of the prodigal son,” she winked, smiling fondly at her little brother.  
  
“Hm, yes. Something like that.” Chanyeol greeted her with a hug before following her towards a small settee. He much preferred talking to his older sister over following his parents around– and it seemed that the feeling was mutual. His brother in law jumped right into mingling and conversing with the other guests, leaving the siblings freedom to converse in private.  
  
“I’m assuming you’re boiling up inside?” Yoora asked.  
  
“How so?”  
  
“You’re all about roughing it now, this must be torture,” Yoora laughed.  
  
“I have grown rather fond of rice paddies, I have to admit.” Chanyeol held out his hands, now marred with callouses. “And a hammer.”  
  
“Oh no, my baby brother is a working man now!” Yoora faked despair, putting her hand to her head like she was faint. Chanyeol tried to act amused by it all, but something about his sister’s perceptions of life – even if she was one of his favorite people – was part of a larger problem.  
  
“Park!” A shout interrupted the sibling’s conversation.  
  
Chanyeol’s reprieve from the wealthy friends of his family was short lived, it seemed. He tried to look friendly when he made eye contact with the young man coming his way.  
  
It was Kim Jongin, the son of a man who often did business with Chanyeol’s father. He was Chanyeol’s age and they had attended school together when they were younger. Chanyeol hadn’t seen him since he had gone away to college and honestly he had no idea what the man had been up to.  
  
“Jongin.” Chanyeol stood to greet his old acquaintance (they had grown distant in their teenage years, to call him a friend would be a misnomer). He had anticipated a formal greeting, but what he got was a hug. Jongin was a few inches shorter, though a lot stronger than Chanyeol, nearly crushing him with his enthusiasm.  
  
“Yoora,” Jongin let Chanyeol go and gave a small bow to Chanyeol’s sister.  
  
“Nice to see you.” She was skilled at looking like she was pleased to see everyone, even those she was less than fond of. In Jongin’s case Yoora was probably rather indifferent about the encounter, not being close with the man to begin with. Or so Chanyeol had assumed.  
  
“I spent time with your sister and brother in law while I was in Japan,” Jongin informed Chanyeol.  
  
“Ah, so you two know each other better than I thought.” Chanyeol’s family, minus himself, had left Korea when the war broke out. They had business partnerships in Japan, giving them a safe haven for the duration of the fighting. Chanyeol had stayed to attend school, moving with the other students to the safety of Busan while the fighting took place.  
  
“I want to know what you have been doing of late, we haven’t seen each other in years!” Jongin gestured for the other two to sit, taking his place next to Chanyeol.  
  
“I have been well. I was in Busan until I graduated, now I am staying in Namwon and helping to build a school.” Chanyeol found that he felt a measure of pride in being able to say he was now doing something, not wasting away in safety while everyone else suffered. Not doing what Jongin had done during the fighting, for example.  
  
“Ah, studying! Your sister mentioned that.” Jongin added, “I just got back from Japan not a week ago. It is nice to be back in Korea.”  
  
“Will you stay here long?” Chanyeol inquired, making small talk.  
  
“Yes, my father is setting me up to operate his line of acquisitions.” Chanyeol noticed that Jongin looked proud of the fact.  
  
 “What are you acquiring?” Yoora asked.  
  
“Farmland mostly. Now that the government is offering the voucher program it is more than attractive to buy up land and industrialize it. Got to help the rebuilding effort.” Jongin winked. Chanyeol found the way he talked about rebuilding distasteful, considering he was apparently only interested in it for his own family’s gain.  
  
“Vouchers?” Yoora asked, taking the words out of Chanyeol’s mouth. Six months ago he wouldn't have cared so much what farmland and vouchers had to do with the rebuilding effort, but now that he was staying in the midst of farms he wanted to know.  
  
“Hmm. Land reform. Started before the war but now that the fighting stopped we can finally do something about it.  You see, it’s like this,” Jongin gestured with his hands as he spoke, “No one can own over three chanbos of land. What they had extra was sold to the government for a voucher promising payment over five years. Now that we are facing inflation the vouchers are essentially worthless – top that off with the government and their incentive program for industrialization and you can make big bucks buying up farmland. The farmers have nothing right now, which means they are selling for ridiculously cheap.”  
  
Chanyeol didn't like the sound of what Jongin was explaining. He could hear his father in his mind saying it is business, just business. Business isn’t charity, Chanyeol.  
  
“What does the farmer get out of it though, in the long run?”  
  
 “They go along with the industrialization. They work at it, help the country rebuild by working in manufacturing or moving to a city or something. Does it matter? If they have no way to keep their farm anyway, isn’t it great for them to be bought out.”  
  
“And what if they don't want to sell?” Chanyeol asked.  
  
Jongin raised his eyebrows. “You certainly seem interested in this.”  
  
“I…” Chanyeol trailed off.  
  
“I’m curious too.” Yoora offered, making the question less awkward.  
  
“If they don't want to sell we can usually pressure them into it, I mean they have little choice. Land tax is astronomical and yields are bad. The Americans are giving us grain like it is an endless supply. Come this year their crops will be worth next to nothing, the land they sold to the state will never be paid, and what they do farm will mostly go to the government as it is. They sell because they know they have to. Even if they don’t want to, they need to.”  
  
Chanyeol pursed his lips. Was Kyungsoo in this situation? Was his farm as bad off as Jongin claimed? But they had always had food on the table, it didn’t seem like they had any money troubles.  
  
“Let’s save business talk for another day.” Jongin flashed his megawatt smile at Chanyeol. “Did you say you were staying in Namwon?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded.  
  
“Isn’t that the story of Chunhyang? I mean where it is set.” Jongin looked amused. “Are you down there to find your own Chunhyang? Have a ring slipped into your hand by some country lass,” Jongin winked.  
  
“I very much doubt that will happen.” Yoora interjected, though the reason she said it was probably understood very differently by Jongin as compared to Chanyeol.  
  
Yoora was the only person in Chanyeol’s life that knew he preferred men over women in a sexual way. He had confessed to her as a teenager, afraid something was wrong with him and needing someone to tell. He thought he needed help, a cure. Instead he was given acceptance. Yoora told him it wasn’t a bad thing, though he should be careful who he told in case others judged him harshly for it. He had kept it secret, hoping one day he would find someone who felt like he did. That day had yet to come.  
  
“Not looking for a wife?” Jongin nodded towards where his father was standing talking to a group of middle aged men. “I was told I should get married yesterday.”  
  
“Chanyeol isn’t in the market for a wife,” Yoora spoke for him.  
  
“Ah, to be you.” Jongin clapped him on the back. “It was good seeing you Park, keep in touch.”  
  
He stood up and made his way over to where his father was standing, entering in the conversation seamlessly. Once he was gone Chanyeol sat back and relaxed, sharply exhaling.  
  
“He’s going to make his father proud,” Yoora remarked.  
  
“Yes, he grew up to be just the type of person that would make our father proud too. “ Chanyeol couldn't add _unlike me_ but his sister sensed it.  
  
“You make me proud,” she said softly.  
  
Chanyeol smiled at his sister. “Thank you.” He meant it.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol left for Namwon the next morning, taking the train down with a sense of relief and anticipation. Relief that he was going to be away from his father and his demands (he had tried to get Chanyeol to stay incessantly) and anticipation over seeing those he left behind in Namwon. He wondered how Jongdae had spent his new year, since he wasn’t going anywhere. He wondered if Baekhyun had gotten the pocket money he had whined about. He wondered if Ji Hyo wore her hanbok. He wondered if Kyungsoo...he wondered if he had fun.  
  
With February came slightly warmer temperatures, the snow and ice that had covered the valley melting away. Chanyeol plodded through the newly muddy road on his way back to the farm, noting that in just a few days some things had changed. Whatever Kyungsoo had been doing out in the field was being replicated by others, almost every farm Chanyeol passed he saw the farmers toiling around in their paddies. He wasn't sure when planting was, but he felt like it was later in the year. When he noticed one older couple rebuilding the bunds of one of their paddies he got the inclination that they were out repairing their fields for the coming planting season.  
  
When he spotted the white farmhouse down the road he smiled, finding some sort of comfort in it. A comfort he hadn’t had when he went home. Yet this place, it wasn’t all comfort and ease. Kyungsoo was still depressingly harsh to him. Ji Hyo had problems and Baekhyun– well after finding his shoelaces tied together half a dozen times Chanyeol recognized him as the trickster he was.  
  
Yet there was that feeling of comforting familiarity that he never felt back in Seoul. How odd.  
  
When he approached the farmhouse he saw a flash of pink. It was Ji Hyo, standing on the long porch. He hurried his step, eager to say hello. Yet when he got sight of her he could tell something was wrong.  
  
“Are you well? “ Chanyeol saw the vacant look in Ji Hyo’s eyes, the same he had seen the day he had arrived in Namwon. It was the same that expression that had been displayed the day Kyungsoo’s truck backfired. It was like her spirit had left her body, her expression devoid of feeling. She was dressed in the hanbok that she had been wearing that day too, the finely embroidered garment glaringly out of place.  
  
“Do you think I will win?” she asked, tracing her finger on the railing of the porch. When she raised her fingertip up it was wet from the melting snow.  
  
Chanyeol didn’t know what to do. Was this madness that Baekhyun had hinted at?  
  
“When Seungsoo gets back we plan on having another baby,” she smiled brightly. “And to think I will still win after that. How jealous they must be, the other girls.”  
  
She was lost in a time that does not exist, he thought. He sat down on the edge of the porch and waited, listening as Ji Hyo began to talk of her baby and how Baekhyun would be pleased to have a sibling.  
  
He heard her heart break through her happy words– or perhaps it was his own heart breaking? To know it was all some fantasy she clung to made him sad. He wanted to bring her back, to snap her out of it. “Ji Hyo, Baekhyun needs you. Kyungsoo needs you.”  
  
“Kyungsoo?” Ji Hyo looked thoughtful. “But he’s gone. He left for the army.”  
  
Chanyeol heard Kyungsoo nearing, the familiar plodding step indicating as much. When he rounded the corner and saw Chanyeol sitting with Ji Hyo he frowned.  
  
“You shouldn’t bother with her when she’s like that,” Kyungsoo instructed as he walked towards the house. “Leave her alone.”  
  
“I was just listening,” Chanyeol protested.  
  
“That is the worst thing you could do,” Kyungsoo spat back, giving Chanyeol a look of annoyance intermingled with disgust.  
  
“Seosoo is that you?” Ji Hyo stared at the farmer hopefully. “Are we going to have a baby now?” She stood and ran to Kyungsoo’s side, attempting to hug him as he walked. He shoved her off of him, sending her onto the ground in the process.  
  
Chanyeol watched as the woman fell, her hands going behind her to soften her fall. Mud splattered up as her body collided with the hard ground. Chanyeol found the entire thing pitiful. This woman, who had been so kind to him, was tossed into the dirt by her bitter brother in law. This woman, who was showing her pain the only way she knew how, was being cast aside in a flurry of anger and misdirected rage.  
  
It was disgusting, unnerving, and it was wrong. Chanyeol had tiptoed around Kyungsoo for the last month. He had tried to ignore his anger and his biting words. He had told himself that it wasn’t his place to confront the man. He had told himself that maybe he was just reading the situation wrong. That maybe, as the coward that he was, he just simply could never understand.  
  
Yet this single moment was enough for him to feel the confidence he had been lacking. To know that Kyungsoo wasn’t acting the way he should be acting. He was a bully taking it out on the wrong people, and Chanyeol wasn’t going to let it go. Not anymore.  
  
“Hey!” Chanyeol rushed past him to help Ji Hyo up.  She was sitting on the ground, mud splattered on her pink hanbok, tears streaming down her face. “Did you have to do that?!”  
  
Kyungsoo turned around. “This is my family, it is none of your business, coward.” He limped into the house without another word.  
  
Chanyeol helped the crying woman up. As soon as she was standing her tearful state changed to one of mirth. “So do you think I will win? You shall vote for me, won’t you?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded slowly, his eyes trained on the door that Kyungsoo had walked through. He balled his hands into fists and walked into the house after him. Something had snapped inside of him, his frustrations spilling over. Weeks with Kyungsoo acting like he was the worst person on earth– weeks of Kyungsoo acting like every human being was the bane of his existence– drove him to this unbridled anger.  
  
He found Kyungsoo sitting on the floor near the little table. When Chanyeol walked up to him, the farmer didn’t even blink.  
  
“Do Kyungsoo, you’re the least pleasant person I have ever met.” Chanyeol spat. That got a rise out of the smaller man, his eyes widening as he looked at his boarder. “You bully a sick woman, you scowl at anyone that looks at you.”  
  
“I have reasons!” Kyungsoo shouted back, his cheeks turning red as his temper flared. “Unlike you, you fucking coward!”  
  
“I’m a coward. I admit it.” Chanyeol pointed his finger towards the seated man, “but you – can you admit that you’re angry with the world? Can you admit that there are a hundred, a thousand, tens of thousands of people like you in this country and they aren’t acting like you are?”  
  
Kyungsoo snorted. “Are you trying to tell me how to feel? Are you, someone who has never seen a day of fighting in his–”  
  
Chanyeol interrupted him. “I’m not telling you how to feel. I’m trying to tell you how to treat people with basic respect. People like your sister in law, who does everything for you.” Chanyeol dragged his hand through his hair in frustration. “If you want to go forward, stop acting like this. If you want to stop now, to let your anger kill you slowly, so be it.”  
  
“You know nothing,” Kyungsoo spat.  
  
“I probably don’t,” Chanyeol agreed. “I’m probably foolish to say any of this. In fact, I should probably just take my things and go somewhere else.” He stalked off towards his room, his body on fire. Kyungsoo could infuriate him like no one else. Kyungsoo, the distant and angry man, could get a rise out of him like no one else. Why?  
  
When he got into his room he pulled out his duffle bag and began shoving his belongings inside. His motions were sloppy but strong, fueled by his rage. When he pulled open a drawer to retrieve his clothing he caught his hand on the corner, cutting it. He swore under his breath and pulled his hand to him.  
  
Annoyed he fell to the floor, slumping down and letting out a loud groan. He stared at the ceiling, his mind filled with so many thoughts it felt like his brain would implode. He stayed that way for minutes, maybe an hour, he wasn’t sure.  
  
When he heard the familiar creaking of the door to his room, which was forever getting caught in its frame, he looked up.  
  
“Don’t go.”  
  
The farmer was standing in the doorway, his expression serious. He didn’t say he was sorry or demand an apology from Chanyeol. It was just those two words. Those two mysterious words.  
  
“Why shouldn’t I?” Chanyeol challenged. ”I’m a coward and all I do is meddle.”  
  
“Just don’t.” Kyungsoo turned around and walked back down the hallway, leaving Chanyeol more confused than ever.  
  
Why would Kyungsoo want him to stay? The rent money probably. But why was there a tinge of regret in his tone when he spoke or was Chanyeol imagining all of that? Do Kyungsoo was a constant mystery, one that Chanyeol felt like was slowly driving him mad. He knew so little about the man but thought about him more than he reasonably should.  
  
Perhaps it was because all his life Chanyeol had been the one to keep a smile on his face. To cheer others up, to not be too depressed or take things too seriously. He never overflowed with happiness but he was unfailingly positive the majority of time. Meeting Kyungsoo was like meeting his polar opposite in every way and he just couldn’t understand the man. Even more so when Kyungsoo said things like he should stay. Was there any real emotion there? Should there be?  
  
Chanyeol tossed and turned for a couple hours as he dissected the situation again and again in his mind. Finally he fell asleep, not ever moving from his spot on the floor. HIs dreams were filled with a large eyed man, a mystery unlike any he had ever encountered.  
  
   
  
   
  
The next morning found Chanyeol feeling slightly embarrassed about what had occurred the previous day. He rarely if ever exploded like that, and now that he thought back on it he doubted it was his place to do so. He was staying in this house, why did it matter what emotional atmosphere clung to the residents of the home?  
  
He emerged from his room later than usual and headed straight for the door, wanting to avoid an awkward conversation. He didn’t escape however. Ji Hyo stopped him.  
  
She emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. The distant and almost inhuman look in her eyes was gone. She had seemingly returned to normal.  
  
“Chanyeol, may I talk to you?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded. He waited by the door, half tempted to make a run for it.  
  
“I’m sorry what happened yesterday. I have these episodes, they come and go.” He saw tears form in her eyes. “Kyungsoo didn’t hurt me.”  
  
Chanyeol held his tongue, not knowing how to respond.  
  
“Kyungsoo doesn’t hurt me, please don’t think that.” A single tear fell down Ji Hyo’s cheek. “We have just been through so, so much.”  
  
It probably wasn’t his place but he did it anyway. He stepped forward and pulled the woman into a hug, wanting - no, needing to comfort her. She let him, burying her face in his shirt as she cried.  
  
I’m a fool, he thought. I said things I shouldn’t have to people that didn’t deserve it. Of course they are upset, of course they are depressed...of course I don’t understand. Of course….  
  
“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol patted her head. “I’m sorry I yelled at Kyungsoo.”  
  
Ji Hyo lifted her head from Chanyeol’s shirt, sniffling. “No. You shouldn’t be sorry.”  
  
Chanyeol looked at her in confusion.  
  
“He needs someone like you, someone who can remind him the world isn’t all dark, not forever.” Ji Hyo wiped her tears. “He needs your honesty Chanyeol.”  
  
Chanyeol swallowed. He hadn’t been expecting this.  
  
   
  
   
  
It was strange, Chanyeol thought, that a person who was so angry and off-putting could also be so gentle. He garnered as much as he watched Kyungsoo from afar one evening, the farmer sitting on the ground and gently rubbing a cloth over something. Chanyeol was sitting on the porch, far enough back so Kyungsoo wouldn’t notice him.  
  
“He collects small stones he finds,” Ji Hyo explained when she stepped outside and noticed Chanyeol watching. “He polishes them and keeps them.”  
  
He flushed, trying to pretend like he hadn’t been staring.  
  
“Keeps them in the hutch, there are probably at least a hundred of them.” Ji Hyo sighed, “It’s a shame he won’t ever put them in the house, we could use the decoration. But he keeps them hidden away.”  
  
Kyungsoo was fascinating like this, his head bowed in concentration, his hands moving purposefully and slowly. Ji Hyo returned to the house and Chanyeol kept watching. Why, he wasn’t exactly sure.  
  
The more he thought about it the more he realized the farmer found beauty and tucked it away in that dark and grimy hutch for a definite reason. He found beauty and kept it for himself. Kyungsoo, Chanyeol thought, was trying to protect something he rarely encountered. Keeping it safe from the world. Kyungsoo, Chanyeol thought, was a lot more complex and maybe even caring then he gave him credit for.  
  
   
  
On Saturday they cleaned up at the building site early, dark storm clouds rolling in and threatening to drench them if they kept working. Thankfully the storm never broke, Chanyeol making it back to the farmhouse dry and untouched by lightning. When he got to the farmhouse he found Baekhyun outside playing– which quickly turned into Baekhyun dragging Chanyeol off to play.  
  
After a rambunctious game of tag Baekhyun suddenly ran inside to fetch “something I need to show you”. Chanyeol waited, perched on the edge of the long porch. When the child returned he was carrying a picture book that Chanyeol recognized as one that he had brought from Seoul. The little devil had taken it from his room. He sighed, but easily forgave the boy. The child sat next to him. Baekhyun scanned the page and then turned to the next, smiling brightly at the small illustration.  
  
Chanyeol smirked as the child’s enthusiasm grew with each turn of the page. “Will you teach me?” Baekhyun looked up from the book, his eyes wide and hopeful. “To read, I mean.”  
  
“Yes, once you’re done with your chores.” Chanyeol leaned forward and ruffled the boy’s already messy mop of black hair.  
  
“Can I keep it?” Baekhyun held up the book. When Chanyeol nodded the child let out a noise of excitement, jumping down from the porch and running off with the volume.  
  
Chanyeol hoped that he had this feeling once the school opened, that he could repeat this sense of satisfaction that came with getting a child interested in learning.  
  
“You know, he can read.”  
  
Chanyeol turned around, surprised he hadn’t heard Kyungsoo approaching. The man leaned against the side of the house.  
  
“He can?” Chanyeol cocked an eyebrow, looking towards where the child had run off to. “The little devil,” he muttered.  
  
“I taught him when he was four, picked it up right away.” Kyungsoo limped towards him. “So you don’t need to bother with him.”  
  
Ji Hyo’s words rung in his ears. Be honest. “Children can always learn more. Should always learn more.”  
  
“Why?” Kyungsoo stopped in front of Chanyeol, giving him a challenging look. “So he’s better at rice farming?”  
  
“Perhaps he doesn’t want to be a farmer,” Chanyeol shot back. Kyungsoo snorted.  
  
“Yes, because as you can see we are living in a world with endless opportunities.” Kyungsoo’s tone was biting. He limped past Chanyeol and headed for the outbuilding.  
  
“You should try to give this world a chance, it might surprise you.” Chanyeol called after him. Kyungsoo didn’t turn back or otherwise indicate he had heard him.  
  
As February turned to March, Chanyeol believed Kyungsoo would never listen.  
  
   
  
**MARCH 1954**  
  
   
  
“Why do you care so much about what he thinks?” Jongdae asked him over a beer. It was early March now, the freeze of winter was fully gone. Spring was approaching, and with it came the frenzy to prepare for the coming planting season. It was a time of change and renewal, in more ways than one. All over town the reconstruction was making progress, the renewal coming both in the fields and in the city simultaneously.  
  
Chanyeol shrugged. He had just finished telling Jongdae about how Kyungsoo had yet to really acknowledge anything he was doing, or say more than two words to him in any given day. Not to mention that the more blunt that Chanyeol got, the more honest he was becoming, the less Kyungsoo talked to him.  
  
“For claiming to dislike this guy so much you seem awfully fixated on gaining his approval.” Jongdae took a sip of beer, smacking his lips as he swallowed. “I think you want to be his friend.”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyes widened, almost comically. “No, never!”  
  
Jongdae rolled his eyes. The subject changed to Jongdae’s hunt for a wife (thus far unsuccessful).  
  
After they finished a small afternoon meal and another round Chanyeol headed back to the farm. On the long walk he thought about what Jongdae had said. He knew it wasn’t the case, he didn't want to be Kyungsoo’s friend. But yet he cared about him in some odd way. He wanted to see the man smile again. He wanted to see him heal. He wanted…what did he want?  
  
He sighed, trudging up the muddy road. He really wished he could control his thoughts sometimes.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
The world can be a mind blowingly small place sometimes, Chanyeol thought. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he returned to the farm one evening only to see a car parked out in front of the white building. It was a strange site, the nicest car Chanyeol had encountered in his entire time in Namwon was parked at the side of a muddy farm road.  
  
When he entered the house his confusion only grew. A very familiar man was seated around the little dining table, his suit coat folded on the floor next to him. One look at Kyungsoo’s grim expression told Chanyeol that this was not a friendly visit.  
  
“Jongin?” Chanyeol asked, still shocked at the familiar silhouette sitting across from Kyungsoo.  
  
The man turned to see who had entered the house, smiling broadly when he spotted his old friend. “Chanyeol! What are the odds?” He was up in a second, clapping Chanyeol’s back as he pulled him in for a friendly hug.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
“Business,” Jongin answered cryptically. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I rent a room.” Chanyeol had a bad feeling about Jongin being at this farm for business, considering what he had told him back in Seoul.  
  
Jongin laughed. “What a strange coincidence! To think I would run into you. Sit,” he gestured towards the table, “Help me convince Mr. Do.”  
  
Chanyeol took off his jacket, making eye contact with Kyungsoo in the process. He could see the barely contained anger in the man, in the way his shoulders were tense, his posture stick straight. He sat down at the table, feeling extremely awkward.  
  
“I don’t think my boarder should have anything to do with this discussion,” Kyungsoo stated, glaring at Jongin as he spoke.  
  
Jongin ignored him. “Mr. Do here refuses to let me help him. He has a half a dozen loans and his farm won’t turn a profit, I can guarantee it. Yet, despite facing certain failure and destitution, he doesn’t want to sell. Chanyeol, old friend, tell your landlord why selling is a good idea.”  
  
Chanyeol shifted, feeling intensely uncomfortable. “I–” he looked at Kyungsoo, and for some reason what Ji Won had told him replayed in his mind. Pride. This was his pride. Jongin was asking Kyungsoo to sell his pride. Kyungsoo, who had been through hell and back, was being bullied into selling his home. Kyungsoo, who was as different from Jongin and Chanyeol as could be– was being asked to give up the only thing he had left. Chanyeol wasn’t going to ask him that, he couldn’t. “I don’t think selling the farm is a good idea.”  
  
“What?!” Jongin looked at Chanyeol with wide eyes. “You must be joking. Do you realize–”  
  
“I realize that Mr. Do and his family have worked this land for generations. I realize that if he has loans it is only to keep his farm going. I realize that you’re a lot like my father, taking advantage of those who are in a tight spot.” Chanyeol felt his heart beating in his chest - thud, thud thud. He had never stood up to anyone of his class before, not like this. It was both exhilarating and scary at the same time.  
  
Jongin snorted. “You have to be kidding me. Has your time here made you stupid?”  
  
“No, my time here has started to cure the stupidity I suffered from my entire life,” Chanyeol answered resolutely. He felt this wholly and completely. That Namwon, in its own way, had started to cure him of the degenerative mindset that had been instilled in him. This place, this farm, and this family had begun to push out the fog of selfish perception.  
  
“What if I bought the neighbor's farm? Or perhaps the farm beyond that? Would you care?” Jongin’s tone was biting, there was venom there that made Chanyeol nervous. What was he getting at?  
  
With someone like Jongin he couldn’t be sure where the conversation would go, especially since this was a business conversation. Jongin reminded Chanyeol so much of his father, and he had heard his father bargain once or twice in his life. It was like a chess game, the way his father pushed the other person until he won, leaving his opponent to be amazed any of it had happened at all.  
  
And maybe that is why he knew he wasn’t going to stay quiet, even if Jongin’s response to anything he said was beyond his power of prediction. Because Jongin was like his father and a thousand other faceless businessmen who thought they could bully the poor and take from them what they wanted. Jongin was another man who chased profits, forgetting that with each deal there was a human cost as well.  
  
“I think you should allow people to make up their own minds, not bully them into selling because you have money and they don’t.” Chanyeol had opened the door to voice his opinion, he had allowed himself to finally say what had been building inside him since he left Busan. Now there was no stopping him, there was no more pleasantries, no more going back. “You’re like my father, treating people like shit in the name of business. You shouldn’t do this Jongin, this isn’t just a business deal. This is a family. This is more than you can comprehend.”  
  
Jongin frowned. “You have quite the interesting opinions, Park. Now think sensibly for a moment and stop being an idiot.”  
  
Chanyeol had a desire to toss Jongin out of the house physically, to remove him from the premises of this time and place. He settled on harsher words. “Stop being a soulless greedy son of a bitch, Jongin.”  
  
“Ah, I see.” Jongin crossed his arms. “You come down to Namwon and turn into a mouthpiece for the poor. What changed your mind? What made you act like this? Mr. Do perhaps?”  
  
Chanyeol swallowed. No, there was no way he was going there, was he? It was just a hint of something, something that made Chanyeol exceedingly nervous. A truth that if spilled would change things, would bring hate and revulsion.  
  
“Or is it his pretty sister in law. Aw, but no – that isn’t up your alley, now is it Park? You never did like pretty _girls_.” Jongin had hit the nail on the head, found the weakest spot in Chanyeol’s being. His deepest, darkest secret.  
  
Chanyeol felt sick. How had Jongin found out? He had only ever told his sister. Sure some people insinuated, but was it that well known? He couldn't look at Kyungsoo, couldn’t look over to see the hatred in his face that he was certain would be there.  
  
“Get out of this house. Get out of Namwon, and go back to your pathetic excuse for a life,” Kyungsoo growled, standing up quickly he teetered on his leg due to his injury.  
  
Chanyeol reached to steady him, a further mistake.  
  
“And you end up playing house with a cripple.” Jongin laughed. “Wait until the others back in Seoul get word of this.”  
  
“Out, now!” Kyungsoo roared.  
  
Jongin grabbed his suit coat and stood, throwing out “If you change your mind, or should I say when, you have my number.”  
  
Jongin stalked out of the house. Chanyeol was quiet, wanting to disappear. His secret had just been shouted in a place where he had found comfort. Perhaps the first place he had ever felt comfortable in his life. He felt utter despair, depression, a sadness that came on so suddenly he wasn’t certain how to move, how to speak, how to go on.  
  
“Ignore him, he’s scum.” Kyungsoo said before limping off towards the door. Chanyeol watched him leave, a veil of depression and fear overcoming him.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol skipped dinner, going for a walk instead. When he returned to the farmhouse he sat on the porch, somehow not finding the courage to go inside. Ji Hyo came out of the house and set down a plate of food and a beer. She didn't say anything, only offered a small smile. Chanyeol thanked her.  
  
The evening was still warm, a sure sign that spring was on its way. Chanyeol sat on the porch, the cheap beer that Ji Hyo had brought him in hand. He wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep that night, not after what had happened that day.  
  
The front door opened, the limp indicating it was Kyungsoo.  
  
He sat down on the porch, when Chanyeol looked over he saw that he had a beer in his hand. It was silent for a few minutes before Kyungsoo spoke.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
They were two words that Chanyeol never expected to hear from Kyungsoo, and more shockingly they were followed by the words he never in a million years would have expected to hear.  
  
“I’m sorry, for treating you like that.” It was gruff, the way the farmer said it. Like he had never said the words before. Chanyeol imagined he probably hadn’t.  
  
“I think I misjudged you.” Kyungsoo took a sip of his beer. Chanyeol mimicked the action. More silence.  
  
“You didn’t.” Chanyeol stared out towards the muddy rice paddies. “Misjudge me I mean. I’m a coward.”  
  
“And I’m an asshole.”  
  
Chanyeol looked at Kyungsoo, shocked. Was he joking? Was Kyungsoo, the angriest, most depressing person that he had ever met trying to be funny? The small smile on Kyungsoo’s face would suggest as much.  
  
“Is it that bad? With money.” Chanyeol hoped it wasn’t, hoped Jongin was misinformed.  
  
“Yes. It is probably worse than that man even knew.” Kyungsoo kept his eyes fixated on the ground, not looking over at Chanyeol. “I needed loans to keep buying supplies, loans to feed us, loans…” he trailed off.  
  
Chanyeol felt a pang of sorrow at the knowledge that the Do’s farm was over leveraged. He was so focused on this revelation he forgot his nervousness over what Jongin had insinuated.  
  
Kyungsoo laughed, a low and sad laugh. “Before the war I wanted to be a singer, if you can believe that.” He snorted, finding his own hopes and dreams amusing in the most depressing of ways. “I was going to go to Seoul someday.”  
  
Chanyeol shared in the anguish of lost dreams. He let himself assume that pain that he could tell was simmering below the surface. “Perhaps you still could.” But that would entail selling the farm, giving it up.  
  
“No, I can’t.” Kyungsoo answered firmly. “Because singing doesn’t matter anymore. This place does. This place…” he looked around, staring out towards the rice paddies illuminated by the departing sun, “is what my parents loved. It is what they worked for. It was everything to my family for generations. Now, it is what I want. It is what I will do.”  
  
“More than being a singer? You want this more?” Chanyeol asked, feeling a level of comfort with the man that was impossible to conceive hours ago.  
  
“Yes, more than a singer. This place is my home, and I will never see it go to anyone else.”  
  
Chanyeol marveled at the fact Kyungsoo had said more to him in the last ten minutes than he had in two months. He marveled at the fact it was Jongin who had caused this to happen. That standing up for Kyungsoo’s opinion had somehow earned him the respect he could never gain otherwise. How this change had happened so quickly he felt like it was on shaky foundation. That it could go away at any time.  
  
And maybe he needed confirmation that it wouldn’t. “Why are you suddenly sorry? Because of what I said to Jongin? Was that it?” Of course it was it. Chanyeol knew it, but he needed to hear it.  
  
Instead of answering his question, Kyungsoo spoke of other things. It was like he was a lawyer building a case, starting from the motivations, the actions that had brought them there.  
  
“When I got back, from the war, she was like that,” Kyungsoo spoke softly as he stared off into the distance. “My brother had died early on, back in Ka-san. I didn’t know until I got home, same with my parents. How she managed to survive with a child no less I have no idea.”  
  
“I took a bullet to the leg in Kumsong, tore clear through, but took some bone with it.” Kyungsoo took a swig from his beer. “I never thought I would take over this place, that was supposed to be my brother’s life.”  
  
Silence. Then the farmer spoke again, continuing his tale. “You’re what I hate, or what I thought of you is what I hate. Opportunity, easy won safety. Not understanding what it is like to struggle, to lose, to reach the bottom with nowhere to go. I assumed you thought you were better than all of us, better than those who fought. Better than people who struggled. I thought you were self-serving, coming down here to feel better about yourself.” He looked over at Chanyeol. “But if that were true you would have told me to sell. You would never have thought this rickety farm means anything to me. But you did, you figured it out. You said it.”  
  
Chanyeol stared at the man dumbly, drinking in the feeling of finally gaining his approval. Of finally breaking away some of the shell that he kept around him at all times. For once, for a few minutes, Kyungsoo let himself be human. He couldn’t find the words to respond, he didn’t know what to say. So he stared, in wonder, in awe, and in some strange twisted version of gratitude.  
  
Kyungsoo sighed and looked away, breaking the spell. He struggled to his feet. “If you’re going to town tomorrow I can give you a ride.”  
  
With that he was off, limping back into the house. Chanyeol took a swig of beer, feeling like he had just breached the most impenetrable fortress to ever exist. From there on out, he hoped, things would be different between them.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol spotted the guitar lying near the curb on his way home from work. There weren’t any strings and the body was so roughed up he seriously doubted it would be playable. Yet he grabbed it, carrying it back to the farmhouse like he had just discovered the most precious of treasures.  
  
Four days had passed since Jongin had visited. Four days of Kyungsoo talking to him. Four days of good mornings and good evenings. Four days of realizing that Kyungsoo was a man of few words even if he was on friendly terms with a person.  
  
They weren’t friends, not yet. But they weren’t avoiding each other either. And for some reason this fact made Chanyeol ecstatically happy, probably unreasonably so. In fact, when he spotted the guitar his first thought was of Kyungsoo’s confession. He wanted to be a singer, Chanyeol thought. And I can play guitar. Perhaps I could play it for him while he sings.  
  
 Chanyeol ignored how ludicrous it was. How he was pandering to Kyungsoo. How somewhere, deep down, getting closer to Kyungsoo was motivating him in a lot of ways.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
“Can I play it?” Baekhyun wanted the guitar the moment he laid eyes on it. He was still begging for it a week later, as Chanyeol fiddled with the new strings he had picked up in town. The instrument wasn’t working yet, since he had only bought half the needed strings.  
  
“Baekhyun, the guitar isn’t a toy,” Ji Hyo admonished the boy.  
  
They were sitting on the porch, the sun sinking below the horizon. Dinner was done, signaling to the occupants of the house that it was time to go outside. Could a routine be formed in such a small amount of time? Chanyeol wasn’t sure, yet it felt like they had been doing this forever.  
  
As the temperatures grew warmer they had gravitated to the porch, all four of them sitting outside until the sun was down. Baekhyun would run around playing in the fields while Ji Hyo shared the latest gossip garnered from the other farmer’s wives and sisters. Kyungsoo would listen carefully, barely saying a word. Chanyeol would thrive on the interactions, sharing funny anecdotes if he had them.  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t recognize just how much this ritual meant to him until he was alone inside his room, trying to fall asleep. Remembering how different his own childhood had been. How distant his parents were. How they had never really enjoyed each other’s conversation, an hour spent sitting together. This was, he supposed, what a family should be.  
  
And, in a way it was scary, he felt part of this family. It wasn’t his place. He was a guest, he would remind himself as he tossed and turned. He would build the school and teach there. Eventually he would move on, he wouldn’t be here forever.  
  
As March turned to April he realized leaving here was not something he wanted. And that was frightening in many ways.  
  
   
  
**APRIL 1954**  
  
   
  
It was the first week in April when Chanyeol acquired the last two strings he needed for the guitar. He tucked them into his front pocket, patting the pocket randomly throughout the day to make sure they were safe. When he brought them back to the farmhouse he could barely contain his excitement.  
  
He found Kyungsoo in the fields, going through his final preparations for planting.  
  
“I found the strings.” He knew he had a big, goofy dumb looking smile on his face but he couldn’t help it.  
  
“Is that so?” Kyungsoo didn’t look up from his work.  
  
“Yeah, we should try it out after dinner.” Chanyeol could swear he had a bounce in his step as he walked into the house.  
  
When he got into his room he grabbed the guitar from where it was leaning in the corner and began to string the instrument.  
  
“I wonder how well he sings,” Chanyeol mused. Kyungsoo had yet to share his potential talent.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
After dinner Chanyeol grabbed the guitar, the anticipation causing his energy levels to skyrocket. He plopped down on the porch, the guitar hitting his lap with an acoustic thud. He began to strum at the strings, Baekhyun running up to help him. As the child hit the strings with uninhibited enthusiasm Chanyeol laughed.  
  
“I can teach you when you get older.” Somehow that was a horribly empty promise.  
  
“Really?!” Baekhyun looked up at him, all hero worship and innocent excitement.  
  
Chanyeol nodded, not wanting to think about empty promises. He glanced over at Kyungsoo. The man looked beat down, his posture lax as he leaned against the house. He had bags under his eyes, his black hair– which was verging on shaggy now– was a mess.  
  
“I know a few songs,” Chanyeol announced, beginning to play an old folk song that he had learned when he first picked up the instrument.  
  
“I know this!” Ji Hyo smiled and clapped, pulling her son to her as they rocked back and forth to the music. Baekhyun struggled, but eventually gave in and hugged his mother.  
  
When Kyungsoo began to sing Chanyeol almost stopped playing. He had a deep, rich tone. It was perfect, Chanyeol thought. It made him want to hear more.  
  
When the song ended Kyungsoo looked embarrassed. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the side of the farmhouse, his legs splayed out in front of him. He clasped his hands in his lap, looking both parts relaxed and embarrassed.  
  
“You sing really well,” Chanyeol couldn’t hold it back.  
  
He watched as Kyungsoo’s lips– those small but plump lips– formed a smile. Chanyeol felt like he had won the lottery.  
  
He strummed a few more songs that night, but Kyungsoo didn’t sing again.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
“So you’re his friend now?” Jongdae asked over a hastily eaten lunch on the job site.  
  
Chanyeol shrugged. “He talks to me now.”  
  
“And you like it?” Jongdae poked him in the arm.  
  
“I like not walking on eggshells anymore!” Chanyeol played it off as something that lessened his anxiety. Yet at the edges, at the peripheral of what he wanted to recognize about his thoughts on the matter, there was something that was more. A happiness that didn’t make sense, but was there nonetheless.  
  
“Never would have thought that monster of a landlord of yours would start being nice,” Jongdae said through a mouth full of food.  
  
“He isn’t all that bad,” Chanyeol shrugged.  
  
“I guess not,” Jongdae seemed amused by the turn of events.  
  
Chanyeol fell into silence as Jongdae began to talk about the building. They would be done soon enough, which meant they could hold a grand opening for the community. Chanyeol felt the same excitement that Jongdae felt, though in all honesty he wasn’t listening as closely as he should. He kept thinking about a certain voice, the hint of a smile, and the reality that even if he had knocked down some walls it still felt like there were a dozen still standing.  
  
   
  
   
  
The fragility of their newfound friendship was never more apparent than the evening when Ji Hyo had another episode. She had been sitting inside while Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol sat outside– it should have been an indication to the others something was wrong. When she appeared in her pink hanbok Chanyeol tensed, remember what happened the last time the woman had an episode.  
  
Kyungsoo took one look at his sister in law and promptly got up, walking out towards the fields without looking back. He was angry, Chanyeol could tell. Now he was faced with a decision – should he follow after him? Should he meddle?  
  
If he meddled what would happen? A repeat, another episode where they fought? Chanyeol was overwhelmed and uncertain as chaos surrounded him.  
  
In the end the decision was made for him. Baekhyun began to cry and Ji Hyo started to cry as well. When Baekhyun became hysterical at his mother’s condition, Chanyeol felt like he was drowning, tossed into a storm for which there was no appropriate shelter. He grabbed Baekhyun and left Ji Hyo on the porch, knowing that if he didn’t talk the child away he would probably hyperventilate.  
  
He walked off after Kyungsoo, finding him sitting on the edge of one of the larger rice paddies. He was half hunched over, if Chanyeol didn’t know he was angry he wouldn’t assume he was forlorn.  When he approached Kyungsoo yelled out, “Put him down!”  
  
Chanyeol held Baekhyun to him tightly, the child burying his face in Chanyeol’s shirt. He was still crying but his outright hysteria had lessened. He ignored Kyungsoo’s demand. He walked over to the man and sat down, still holding Baekhyun.  
  
“You never listen,” Kyungsoo glared. “You meddle, you don’t care what is best because you don’t know.”  
  
Chanyeol rocked Baekhyun back and forth, still ignoring the farmer’s orders. The child shouldn’t be cast off at a time like this, that much Chanyeol was certain of. And Kyungsoo’s anger, his rage that had been triggered, was not making Chanyeol want to comply. In fact it was annoying him, grating at his nerves more than the wailing that was only inches from his eardrum.  
  
“You think teaching him to cry will make him strong?” Kyungsoo spat.  
  
That was the tipping point, the warped viewpoint that couldn’t be ignored.  Chanyeol turned to Kyungsoo. “Perhaps if you learned to cry you wouldn’t be like this.”  
  
Kyungsoo widened his eyes at Chanyeol. “You are the least useful person I have ever met, and I hope you remember that.”  
  
“Stop it!” Baekhyun lifted his head, tears still streaming down his red cheeks. “Stop fighting.”  
  
Chanyeol felt acutely embarrassed that he had gotten into an argument with Kyungsoo while Baekhyun was there– already upset about his mother.  
  
“People fight, get used to it.” Kyungsoo stood up and walked off back towards the house, leaving Baekhyun to have another crying fit.  
  
“You didn’t do anything wrong, shhhh.” Chanyeol coddled Baekhyun, hugging him tightly as he sent death looks at Kyungsoo’s retreating back.  
  
This friendship was not much of one, he thought as he watched the man limp away.  
  
   
  
   
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
It was a repeat of the time before, though this time Kyungsoo wasn’t standing in the doorway telling him not to leave. He was apologizing.  
  
Chanyeol sat in the middle of his room, a book propped on his lap. It had been three days since Ji Hyo had another breakdown. Three days of Kyungsoo and Chanyeol ignoring each other. Ji Hyo was back to normal the next day and Baekhyun seemed fine, but the two men were still giving each other angry looks behind each other’s backs.  
  
And now Kyungsoo was standing in the doorway, staring at the floor.  
  
Why should he forgive him? Why should he care if this man forgave him? Kyungsoo was probably just going to do it again next time– call him useless and spew words of hate. Was there ever a friendship to begin with?  
  
When Chanyeol didn’t answer Kyungsoo spoke. “I don’t think you are useless, but I also don’t want Baekhyun to spend his life crying over his mother. He needs to accept she has episodes.”  
  
“How is he going to accept it when you leave him the moment it happens? How is he going to accept it when you get mad at him? You owe your nephew an apology. “Chanyeol shot back, letting out the anger that had built inside him for the last three days.  
  
“He isn’t, which is why I need to change,” Kyungsoo said it quietly. “And I already apologized to him.”  
  
Do Kyungsoo said he would change, how downright unbelievable. Chanyeol weighed his words. Should he give him a chance? Maybe. It would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?  
  
“Fine, but if you act like that again I am not going to forgive you.” Chanyeol set his mouth in a thin line, hoping his message came through loud and clear.  
  
“Understood,” Kyungsoo answered. He shut the door, tugging it through where it stuck and then walked off.  
  
Chanyeol sighed, going back to his book. He stared at the page but wasn’t actually reading. Instead he was thinking about if Kyungsoo would really change. And if he was changing it was because of him, wasn’t it? How strange.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Ji Hyo had another episode later that week and true to his word Kyungsoo didn’t get angry. He didn’t yell and he didn’t leave Baekhyun alone. Chanyeol watched the scene unfold in silence, feeling immense satisfaction inside at how Kyungsoo was behaving. When Ji Hyo recovered within the hour, coming back to reality, the entire house breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Later that night Chanyeol and Kyungsoo sat on the porch, taking a few shots of soju.  
  
“I am proud of you.” Chanyeol felt a bit embarrassed saying that to Kyungsoo but he needed to. He wanted the man to know how well he had done.  
  
Kyungsoo just nodded.  
  
“Changing is difficult.” Chanyeol thought back to his own shift over the last year, from idiotic naivety and a life of comfort to a sense of regret and a desire to help others. It had been devastating, feeling like his entire world had been a lie. He was disgusted with himself, with the people like him. And that disgust had ate at him day and night, it still did eat at him. But it was shrinking, this terrible feeling of uselessness, and it was because he changed.  
  
“You say that from experience,” Kyungsoo stated. It was strange how sometimes he could be so perceptive, even if he seemed genuinely disinterested in most things.  
  
“My old way of thinking, the people around me– it was difficult to change from that. There was a lot of resistance.” Chanyeol sighed. “My parents, they weren’t happy about it.” Chanyeol thought the term unhappy was a misnomer. His father had been furious, threatening to disown him.  
  
“It is the time we rise, Chanyeol. Do you know how many deals I have in the works? Do you know how many contracts I have with the new government? I need you here! I just get back to Korea to make money and you want to run off and do something so useless?!” His father had roared, throwing a vase against the wall when Chanyeol refused.  
  
“They have a lot of money.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.  
  
“Hm,” Chanyeol confirmed. “My father has a knack for it, even in the hardest of times.”  
  
It was, Chanyeol thought, even worse that his father had a knack for it and had no need to help others with his skills. He could care less who was starving in the countryside as long as he made a dime.  
  
“I am proud of you,” Kyungsoo returned Chanyeol’s sentiment. When Chanyeol looked at the farmer, turning his gaze away from the darkness, he could almost swear he saw affection in his expression.  
  
“Thank you.” Chanyeol looked away, finding it safer to stare into the darkness.  
  
It was interesting, this complete change in how they interacted. In how they felt pride in each other’s growth and sometimes they weren’t afraid to show it or say it. Chanyeol’s heart swelled at the thought Kyungsoo was proud of him and that Kyungsoo was making him proud in turn.  
  
In so many ways they were both damaged people and to a certain extent they clung to their damaged perceptions. Yet these simple chats coupled with honesty meant something, was changing something. In the fields outside of Namwon Chanyeol had found more than he bargained for. He found someone to talk to, someone to tell him it was okay. And that meant a lot.  
  
After a few minutes of silence Kyungsoo spoke. “You will go back though. To Seoul, I mean.” It was another statement.  
  
“I’m not sure that I want to.” Chanyeol answered. He had admitted as much to himself, but he had never said it to anyone else. But it was true. Deep down he didn’t want to go back to that, back to Seoul and helping his father while he filled the family coffers even fuller. Dare he say it, he liked this life better. This bucolic existence, with its ups and downs. This simple way of living, with good people around you– not those who were simply out to use you.  
  
Chanyeol knew he didn’t want to return to that lifestyle, he had known that for a long time. But what was more concrete was the specifics on where he did want to stay. Here, with this family. He didn’t want to leave Namwon.  
  
For all of the emotional turmoil he had witnessed his feelings seemed extremely misplaced. But one thought of sitting on the porch as the sun set, strumming his old guitar made it entirely reasonable. One memory of chasing Baekhyun through the rice paddies as the child giggled made it entirely reasonable. One memory of Ji Hyo humming a trot song while she cooked, of Kyungsoo actually saying something during dinner, one breath of crisp and clean fresh air, one minute of hearing that familiar gait as Kyungsoo entered a room made it reasonable.  
  
“Well, I will need to raise the rent if you stay too long,” Kyungsoo teased.  
  
“I would assume you would.” Chanyeol laughed, deep down hoping he was there long enough for that to happen.  
  
“But for now you can help me tomorrow that can be part of your rent. It’s your day off, right?” Kyungsoo asked softly.  
  
“No I can still pay.” Chanyeol thought about the dire financial straits the man was in. He couldn’t afford to lose any income. “And yeah, it’s my day off.”  
  
“Okay, but you can still help too. It’s time to start planting. Plan to be up earlier than normal.” Kyungsoo stood up, grabbing the bottle of soju. “Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight.” Chanyeol stayed out on the porch for another hour, thinking. About changing. About Kyungsoo. And about the way he was starting to find his own measure of healing in this place, how that gnawing sense of guilt had started to diminish. What diminished it? Working on the school of course. But truth be told gaining the approval of Kyungsoo had done wonders.  
  
 “Maybe we are good for each other,” he mused to himself.  
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol was up before the sun rose, changing into work pants and a work shirt that Kyungsoo lent him. They were too small, leaving his calves exposed, but they would have to do.  
  
Over the last week Chanyeol had watched the water in the rice paddies grow, Kyungsoo flooding them during the day while he was gone working at the school. Each night he returned he found the water had grown another inch or two. Now they were suitably flooded for planting, which Chanyeol assumed would be a lot of work. It turned out he had no real concept of just how much work went into it.  
  
Kyungsoo had grown seedlings over the last couple of months, little nubs of a plant that were kept out in a makeshift greenhouse. Chanyeol learned that they would need to transport the seedlings to the paddies and then plant all of them. When he got a look at just how many seedlings there were his back already ached.  
  
Baekhyun and Ji Hyo were there to help as well, and as Chanyeol transported cart after cart of seedlings to the fields he marveled at how fast they could plant. It was amazing, the way their hands moved over the paddies, pushing the seedlings into the water and mud. Baekhyun was insanely fast at it, his little hands flying over the ground.  
  
Eventually Chanyeol stopped transporting and helped them plant as well, feeling awkward and clumsy since it took him three times as long to push the seedlings into the earth.  
  
It started to rain mid-morning. Kyungsoo instructed Baekhyun to fetch rain slickers, which he dragged across the muddy ground to the two men and the woman who were busy planting. Chanyeol thanked him, tugging the dark green slicker over his muddy shirt and pants. He felt inept as he worked along the field, following Kyungsoo’s instructions as best he could. A few times he stopped and gestured for the farmer to come over to look and make sure he was doing it right.  
  
“I could swear you were cut out to be a farmer, Park.” Kyungsoo slapped him on the back. It was, for an inexplicable reason, one of the best compliments he had ever received. They worked all day, only stopping for a little while to eat a quick lunch. By the time the evening had arrived they had finished planting a couple of the paddies, with a few more to go.  
  
Chanyeol walked slowly back towards the house, feeling pain in muscles he rarely used. He was covered in mud from head to toe and reeked like the water used to flood the fields. He needed to wash up before he even dreamed of setting foot inside the house.  
  
 Baekhyun had ran ahead, stopping a few minutes earlier when Ji Hyo left to start dinner. That left Chanyeol and Kyungsoo to finish up and return to the house together.  
  
“I am going to go wash,” Chanyeol commented, feeling so sore he wondered if he would be able to carry the bucket of well water behind the hutch where they usually washed up.  
  
“Me too,” Kyungsoo grunted.  
  
Chanyeol shouldn’t have cared but his experience had told him otherwise. It had happened to him exactly once, so why it had scared him so much might be a case of an overreaction. It was back in college when he was in Busan. He washed with one of his male classmates – one of his very attractive males classmates– and ended up with a flushed face and an erection that he miraculously managed to hide.  
  
He had washed with many men in his life without that reaction, so it wasn’t like he was some sex thirsty monster who got hard the moment he saw a male body. But at the same time he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t happen when he washed with another male so he stayed away from it. It wasn’t that he felt that way about Kyungsoo. Sure he had appreciated his features, but he had never thought of him in a sexual way.  
  
“Go first,” Chanyeol stopped walking, trying to think of some excuse. “I need to go to the bathroom.”  
  
Kyungsoo didn’t answer, he just walked off towards the well. Chanyeol hung back, waiting for ten minutes until he was sure Kyungsoo was probably done. When he approached the back of the hutch he felt relieved, no noise, surely Kyungsoo had already gone inside.  
  
Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Kyungsoo wasn’t done, in fact he was still rubbing soap over his skin as he stood there completely naked. He had his back to Chanyeol, which was probably a good thing since the taller man froze on the spot. Except at the same time it wasn’t a good thing at all.  
  
Chanyeol shouldn’t be looking but he couldn’t look away. Under his clothes Kyungsoo was hiding an enviable body. His skin was pale, a smattering of moles on his back, moving up from his slim and shapely waist. His arms were more toned than Chanyeol knew, the muscles lean but visible. His legs were the right mix of fat and muscle, and his ass…Chanyeol swallowed. This was bad, very, very bad.  
  
He managed to retreat before Kyungsoo noticed him, hurrying back to the side of the house as his dick sprang to life. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. This was bad, very bad. Kyungsoo had never been of interest to him like that, but now…he couldn’t help how his body reacted. He couldn’t help but like what he saw. And he didn’t want to deal with any of it.  
  
When Kyungsoo limped around the corner, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, he gave Chanyeol a funny look.  
  
Chanyeol was pretty sure he turned bright red. “My stomach doesn’t feel good,” he muttered an excuse.  
  
Kyungsoo nodded. “I brought water for you too.”  
  
Chanyeol thanked him, breathing a sigh of relief as the farmer returned to the house.  
  
Later that night, as he laid in bed, it all came rushing back. The image of Kyungsoo naked, of how beautiful he was. Of how arousing he was.  
  
Chanyeol ended up fisting himself into orgasm as he thought about Kyungsoo, reeling in guilt afterwards. He shouldn’t be doing any of this, he knew it. This wasn’t something that was acceptable, to think of his landlord like that. But it didn’t help the image had made him come faster than any of the other fantasies he had ever jacked off too.  
  
This was bad, very bad.  
  
   
  
   
  
Things changed after that, and it was wholly and irrevocably Chanyeol’s own guilt that did it. He avoided Kyungsoo for a few days, embarrassed at the way he was still thinking about him in a sexual way. Kyungsoo tried to talk to him more than once, only to have Chanyeol clam up and find an excuse to return to his room.  
  
Ji Hyo noticed it, finally asking Chanyeol if anything was wrong. When he answered no she gave him a look that indicated she didn’t believe him.  
  
Somewhere in all of this guilt was a reality that Jongin had insinuated that Chanyeol was gay yet Kyungsoo had no trouble being naked around him. Just what did that mean? Kyungsoo hadn’t believed Jongin, of course. So if Kyungsoo ever found out it was true what then?  
  
Everything was so complicated Chanyeol felt drained of energy. Jongdae noticed it, prodding him for what was wrong. Chanyeol was as closed off to him as he was to everyone else. Homosexuality was not something you admitted to unless you wanted everyone to hate you.  
  
Coupled with guilt over viewing Kyungsoo in a sexual manner came the consideration that maybe Chanyeol didn’t view him only in a sexual manner. Maybe he was actually interested in him romantically, which was so ludicrous it made Chanyeol feel like he was going insane.  
  
But then he would have the nights to think about it and he would over analyze how happy he was seeing Kyungsoo smile, how he loved his voice. How he cared so much about what he thought. Then the guilt would increase tenfold making Chanyeol want to run away from this place and never come back.  
  
He could accept being gay that was something he had come to terms with a long time ago. But liking Kyungsoo, wanting Kyungsoo– it felt like he was violating the man in some strange way by living here. And it became worse every day that passed.  
  
   
  
   
  
It hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was one he had to make if he wanted to avoid a nervous breakdown.  
  
“I’m going to move into town.” Chanyeol said it to Kyungsoo when the man was out in the fields, weeding the newly planted rice paddies.  
  
“What?” Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes and looked at Chanyeol like he had grown a second head. “Why?”  
  
“It’s closer to work. And you guys are busy with the fields you don’t need an extra mouth to feed and extra chores to do because of me.” Chanyeol kept his hands in his pockets, his body language guarded. “I’m going to move after work today.”  
  
Kyungsoo began to say something but Chanyeol walked away without staying to listen. He couldn’t listen. Not if he wanted to keep on being a useful and positive human being.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Ji Hyo cried when he left. Baekhyun didn’t know about it, because Chanyeol didn’t want the child to whine and cling to him. Kyungsoo wasn’t there when he came to get his things and he didn’t spot the man in the fields either.  
  
Chanyeol had found lodgings with Jongdae’s landlady. They were even smaller than the accommodations at the farmhouse, nothing more than a cramped space hardly bigger than a closet. But it was enough for him– enough for him to get away from his shame.  
  
As April turned to May, Chanyeol left the farmhouse. As April turned to May, Chanyeol ran away.  
  
   
  
   
  
**MAY 1954**  
  
   
  
“We’re going drinking.” Jongdae stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at where Chanyeol was lying on the floor in his small room.  
  
“We have to work tomorrow,” Chanyeol reminded him. While they were making excellent progress on the school – it should be done in a couple of weeks– there was still days of back breaking labor to undertake.  
  
“You are depressed and it is making me depressed. I’m going to get you drunk so you tell me what is bothering you.” Jongdae kneeled down and grabbed Chanyeol’s arm, trying to yank him up.  
  
Chanyeol complained but in the end he agreed to go have a couple of drinks with Jongdae. There was no way he would get drunk and there was no chance he would tell Jongdae the truth but he wanted to get the man off his case.  
  
After everything was said and done, going out to drink with Jongdae was not the best thing he could have done for his mental state– because of what he overheard.  
  
He was a former soldier, anyone could see that. And it wasn’t just his military issue coat that told Chanyeol as much. It was the way he sat stick straight, the way he talked. His haircut. His wounded arm. The way he pounded shot after shot like he was drinking to fill up a void.  
  
Jongdae ignored the man, taking his own share of shots as he pried Chanyeol for information. When he didn’t get anywhere he switched the topic to his love life, whining about how poorly his hunt for a wife was going.  
  
Chanyeol sipped a beer, trying to listen like a good friend. Yet he could overhear the soldier at the table behind them talking to someone, and the little snippets of conversation he heard interested him. First it was about the war, the battles he fought in, his hatred for the American soldiers he thought looked down on him. But then he mentioned a few names and Chanyeol couldn’t stop listening even if he wanted to.  
  
“Do Kyungsoo, yeah I know him,” The man was slurring his words, clearly intoxicated. “Was there when he got shot, served the fucker right after what he did.”  
  
He was talking to a woman, who Chanyeol wasn’t sure. Thankfully Jongdae got up to go to the bathroom, making it less awkward for Chanyeol to glance behind him to see the two. They weren’t talking very loudly, which turned out to be a good thing considering what the man spoke of.  
  
“What do you mean?” the woman asked. She looked to be thirtysomething, with a lot of makeup and a rather revealing outfit on.  
  
“He and this other guy, Kim something, were together. Disgusting. I mean caught him bed doing what two men should never do together.” The man spat on the floor, like he was trying to get rid of a curse.  
  
The woman exclaimed surprise, “I never would have thought!”  
  
“Yeah. Should have died for what he did.” The soldier grunted. He wobbled in his chair, falling to the floor a second later.  
  
Chanyeol sat unmoving, his body tensing as his mind reeled. Kyungsoo was gay? Kyungsoo liked men? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? His blood ran cold. It was an added layer of confusion if it was true. It messed things up, made things possible, put things into perspective.  
  
Could Kyungsoo have believed Jongin but didn’t care because he was gay too?  
  
“You look like you have seen a ghost,” Jongdae laughed when he got back to the table and found Chanyeol staring into space with a serious and troubled look on his face.  
  
“Ah no, just tired, “Chanyeol answered, snapping out of it.  
  
“Fine we can go.” Jongdae grabbed his light jacket, which he had slung over the chair. “You better be happy from now on.”  
  
“Yeah, I will be,” Chanyeol mumbled. But the truth was he might be more upset than before.  
  
   
  
   
  
Less than twenty four hours later a blue pickup truck pulled in front of the construction site, the noise from the exhaust causing everyone to glance over to see who had arrived. When Chanyeol spotted the familiar face behind the wheel he swallowed, dread pooling in his stomach.  
  
Kyungsoo alighted the truck and limped towards the site. Chanyeol hurried to meet him, afraid for why he had come. He hadn’t seen him since he had left the farmhouse, though his mind was still filled with him. With Ji Hyo and Baekhyun too. He wondered how they were doing, if they were happy.  
  
“Hey,” Chanyeol greeted, his heart rate picking up as he faced the farmer.  
  
Kyungsoo looked tired, his back slightly bent as he gave Chanyeol a pensive look.  
  
“Come back.”  
  
Two words without an explanation. Two words without any kind of emotion behind them aside from the look in Kyungsoo’s dark eyes.  
  
Chanyeol swallowed. “I’m not sure that is a good idea.”  
  
Two words became five, and they were an arrow to Chanyeol’s chest. A pain. An unknown. Another vague statement that could mean a thousand different things. More complications. “Come back, I miss you.”  
  
He could miss having his occasional help around the fields. His rent money. The way he would chase Baekhyun around in the evenings and tire him out. Or the way he chattered when there were heavy, pregnant silences in the house.  
  
“Why?” Chanyeol wasn’t going to throw himself back into ambiguity, into the unknown, into what-ifs that ate at him and made him crazy.  
  
“Some things can’t be explained.”  
  
If Chanyeol looked hard enough he could see the moisture that was in Kyungsoo’s wide eyes, at the despair that he was trying to hide. And he could read into the comment many things, but all of them were revolving around a topic neither man would dare to bridge. A topic that maybe they both knew about, maybe they both guessed about, but would never speak of.  
  
And that was the best case scenario, Chanyeol realized as he stood staring into Kyungsoo’s dark brown eyes. The best case scenario was ambiguity but hinted at understanding. It was being vague about something that could never be talked about. It was what-ifs, but it was what-ifs based on a shared understanding. And was this an understanding?  
  
“I know what you saw, that day we planted. And I understand.” Kyungsoo said quietly, barely above a whisper. And that was it, it was enough. It was confirmation, it was the most solid thing he would say and the most solid thing either man would admit to. It was good enough and suddenly a load was lifted from Chanyeol’s shoulders.  
  
“Okay,” Chanyeol heard himself say. “I’ll come back.”  
  
Kyungsoo smiled weakly. “Thank you. You can ride home with me.”  
  
Home. Chanyeol’s chest constricted at the thought.  
  
   
  
   
  
Baekhyun hugged him the moment he stepped foot in the house. He wouldn’t let go, gluing himself to the man like he would disappear.  
  
During the ride to the farmhouse neither Kyungsoo nor Chanyeol said anything, both lost in thought. Both feeling a sense of awkwardness that would probably not instantly go away even if they wanted it to.  
  
Ji Hyo was ecstatic as well, giving Chanyeol a big hug and shoving a bowl of his now favorite loach soup his way.  
  
Chanyeol chatted with the woman, then played toy planes with Baekhyun for a while. When he got off to bed he told Kyungsoo goodnight, which was the most they had talked besides when Kyungsoo asked him to return.  
  
It will be awkward for a while, Chanyeol thought. But he came to the conclusion being back here and being awkward was better than being depressed and away. He could deal with awkward as long as he was home.  
  
Home was, he realized, such a new concept to him.  
  
   
  
   
  
It took a few days before their evening routine was resumed. The weather was warm now, summer approaching quickly. The crickets were out now, and their chirps punctuated the night time whenever Chanyeol wasn’t drowning them out with his guitar.  
  
Music, it seemed, help to kill the awkward feelings. The first night they went back to the porch Kyungsoo sang more than he had ever sang before, even requesting a few songs he knew Chanyeol knew how to play. It was like this that happiness seemed to slip back into their lives, alongside an easiness that had been missing since Chanyeol had divorced himself from their existence.  
  
In a few days’ time it was like nothing had ever happened. When Ji Hyo and Baekhyun went into bed Kyungsoo and Chanyeol shared a glass of soju and talked, the subject that they had skimmed over days before suitably buried and not likely to be mentioned ever again.  
  
It was easier now to talk, for some reason, like they were on the same page for the first time since they had known each other. Granted it was for all the wrong reasons, but it was there, palpable between them.  
  
“Do you ever think of singing somewhere local?” Chanyeol asked over his soju glass.  
  
Kyungsoo shrugged. “I guess I don’t really want to get up in front of people, so no.”  
  
Chanyeol could understand considering Kyungsoo still looked embarrassed when he sung in front of his family.  
  
“I never could have been a singer the more I think about it,” Kyungsoo mused. After a brief pause he added, “The school is almost done, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, a few more weeks.” Chanyeol suddenly had an idea. “Do you want to come see it tomorrow? I can show you inside.” The walls were all built now and the roof was mostly done. There were stone masons working on the outside while Chanyeol helped with the finishing touches on the interior. It was immensely satisfying to see the building almost complete, knowing he had helped. And to be honest he kind of wanted to show it off.  
  
“Yeah, I would like to see it.” Kyungsoo smiled, like he genuinely was interested.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Kyungsoo came at the end of the work day. Jongdae talked his ear off for a few minutes, leaving Kyungsoo flustered and stuttering over the energy Jongdae exuded. Chanyeol chuckled, saving him finally by steering him inside the building.  
  
“It is coming along nicely.” Kyungsoo looked around the classroom, running his hand over the bare wood planks that had been left by the workers. There was still finish work to be done, leaving exposed walls and lumber lying about.  
  
Chanyeol wiped his hands on his pants, the sawdust leaving tan streaks on the black cotton. “Do you want the grand tour?” Kyungsoo nodded, flashing a small smile. The sight did something Chanyeol. Kyungsoo with his lips slightly upturned made his chest tighten. He ignored the feeling, walking to the eastern wall and pointing towards a make-believe blackboard. “This is where I shall amaze the students with my teaching.”  
  
“Is that so?” Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Yep, and there,” Chanyeol waved his arms towards the middle of the classroom, “Are where all of my eager students shall sit, hanging on my every word.”  
  
“And where is the real school?” Kyungsoo shot back, smiling widely.  
  
“You wound me,” Chanyeol clutched his chest in mock anguish.  
  
“I do what I can,” Kyungsoo joked, walking towards a pile of lumber leaning against the corner of the room. “Is it pine?” He reached forward and began inspecting the wood.  
  
Chanyeol saw the pile shift before Kyungsoo, and reacted without thinking. He pulled Kyungsoo away seconds before the wood came crashing to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Kyungsoo protectively as he pressed him into his chest. After the clanging of the lumber stopped he stilled, frozen in the position.  
  
Kyungsoo pushed back, but only slightly.  
  
“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asked looking from the lumber to Kyungsoo in concern.  
  
“Yeah. I…” Kyungsoo moved back, reminding Chanyeol what position they were in. The taller man let him go, dropping his arms. “Thanks.”  
  
“No problem.” Chanyeol smiled. Except it was a problem. Because his body hadn’t wanted to let the smaller man go. And no matter how buried certain things were, he couldn’t control his body all of the time. And that was not acceptable.  
  
The flush on Kyungsoo’s face seemed to mirror his own embarrassment. “We need to go.” He limped from the classroom, looking a little upset.  
  
Chanyeol trailed after him, hands in his pockets and his mood souring.  
  
Later that night they sat on the porch, the incident from earlier buried.  
  
But how much will we bury until it becomes too much, Chanyeol wondered. Everything, he reminded himself. That was the only way this would work.  
  
As May turned into June, Chanyeol fought his feelings. As May turned to June, he started to feel like Kyungsoo was fighting with him.  
  
   
  
**JUNE 1954**  
  
   
  
It was two weeks later when they finished the school, and a few days after that when they held the open house. Chanyeol had invited Ji Hyo, Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo to attend. Ji Hyo had declined as Baekhyun was sick at the time, having a terrible cold. The child was insanely whiney while ill, and Ji Hyo looked about ready to collapse from exhaustion. Yet even when Kyungsoo volunteered to watch his nephew so she could attend, Ji Hyo wouldn’t hear of it.  
  
“I think it is better if you go,” she replied.  
  
Chanyeol had been at the school all day, working with Jongdae to ensure that everything was set for the grand opening. They had help of course, Ji Won the village head dropping in with a few others to help set up the classrooms.  
  
Chanyeol had to pause a few times and just take it all in. The classrooms, the desks, the approaching school year. Soon the sound of children’s footsteps would echo in the hallway and their chatter would fill the time in between lessons. He smiled at the thought.  
  
The doors opened around seven, late enough for most people to have eaten. They had small snacks, nothing spectacular since food was still hard to come by in bulk – not to mention that inflation made everything much too expensive.  
  
Chanyeol bowed and greeted each guest, explaining the school to parents and students as they filtered in. When he heard Kyungsoo approaching he felt an indescribable rush of happiness. He greeted him with a smile, noticing how Kyungsoo had put on a neatly pressed shirt and pants for the event. His hair was even carefully combed. He looked like a different man, his handsome features more prominent. Chanyeol tried not to stare.  
  
As the next hour passed Chanyeol spotted Kyungsoo sitting at one of the desks, not talking to anyone. When they moved the celebration outside the school to tables Ji Won had set up, Chanyeol walked beside of his landlord.  
  
“Thanks for coming,” Chanyeol said quietly, earning a grunt from Kyungsoo.  
  
As the evening wore on alcohol appeared, some of the older men bringing bottles of soju to the makeshift tables. It was both bizarre and fitting at the same time – this impromptu drinking party outside the newly built school. It was fitting because with each building that was rebuilt the sense of normalcy was returning, which was something to truly celebrate. It was bizarre because people were becoming increasingly drunk in front of a public school house.  
  
Chanyeol was busy, everyone wanting to talk to the new teacher. He had barely seen Jongdae, which meant he was similarly inundated. As the people who wanted to speak to him thinned out, he finally spotted Kyungsoo.  
  
He was sitting at a table with another person. Chanyeol realized the other occupant of the table was Seungyoon, the farmer’s daughter they had encountered a couple months back. It was obvious that she was half drunk, leaning across the table towards Kyungsoo, every movement she made was an obvious attempt at flirtation.  
  
And the anger that rose in Chanyeol’s chest was the definition of unwarranted, but it was there. He didn’t like what he was seeing, especially when Kyungsoo let the woman pour him drinks. The moment he was free he strolled over to the table, taking a seat on the other side of Kyungsoo.  
  
Seungyoon didn’t acknowledge him, her hand on another cup. “You should drink to be healthy is what my father says.”  
  
Kyungsoo took the glass and drank, slamming it on the table. He smacked his lips, then glanced at Chanyeol. “I need to go to the bathroom.” With that he was up and walking away, leaving a beyond awkward atmosphere as Chanyeol stared across the table at Seungyoon.  
  
“Oh, hi.” She smiled like she had just realized he existed.  
  
Chanyeol could smell the alcohol radiating off of her, the thick scent of soju mingling with whatever cheap perfume she had poured on herself.  
  
“It is a nice night,” she tilted her head side to side. “I don’t usually get to spend this much time with my fiancée.”  
  
Chanyeol felt like he had been slapped. “Fiancée?”  
  
“Well, not official but soon.” Seungyoon clarified, slumping a little on the tabletop. “We are destined for each other,” she giggled.  
  
Chanyeol should have gotten up and found something else to do but part of him wanted to understand her train of thought. Part of him needed to know why she thought they would get engaged soon. Part of him needed to know his heart wasn’t breaking into a million pieces even when he didn’t want to think about how invested he was in the situation.  
  
“Why are you destined?” He asked, folding his hands on his lap as he watched the woman sway slightly in her seat.  
  
“Chunhyang!” She said loudly, earning a few looks from those seated around them. She lowered her voice. “Because Namwon is the city of lovers.”  
  
The folktale again. Chanyeol hadn’t thought much of it, even though people had mentioned it more than once. Perhaps it was time he heard the story, considering he didn’t remember it. “Tell me the story,” he prompted. “The Chunhyang story. I am not from around here.”  
  
She hiccupped before launching into the tale. “A handsome nobleman came here with his father, a magistrate, and the moment he spotted Chunhyang he fell in love. Isn’t that romantic!”  
  
Chanyeol failed to see how this simple story was popular much less what it had to do with her and Kyungsoo, but he bit his tongue.  
  
Seungyoon continued, lowering her voice even more. “Chunhyang’s mom let them get married but it was secret since a magistrate’s son can’t marry the daughter of a gisaeng. But then,” she frowned, “he was called away with his father, back to the capitol and had to leave her.”  
  
“But she gave him a ring,” the girl sighed dreamily. “And when the new magistrate came he wanted Chunhyang for himself so he tried to force her, but her husband returned to save her. He was in disguise so he could catch and trick the magistrate, but she knew because he had the ring. And then they lived happily ever after.”  
  
 “Which is just like you and Kyungsoo….” Chanyeol couldn’t see any relation to be honest.  
  
“The Dos are like royalty here since they own their farm. And Chunhyang means spring fragrance and I smell like a flower.” She got lost in her daydreams as Chanyeol wanted to laugh.  
  
What happened next took him completely by surprise. She leaned across the table. “But papa doesn’t want me to marry him, so it would have to be secret like the story. Papa thinks he likes men, which isn’t true, but he won’t believe me.”  
  
Chanyeol let out a loud and biting laugh. “That is ridiculous!” Was he just adding fuel to her delusions? Probably. But at the same time being serious about this would be a very bad thing. He would never get dragged into her insinuations.  
  
She laughed with him, hiccupping mid-giggle. It was at that time Kyungsoo came back to the table, looking utterly perplexed at what was going on.  
  
“Ready to go?” Chanyeol stood up.  
  
“Can you go yet?” Kyungsoo looked around at all the people still gathered.  
  
“Yeah. Jongdae is–“he caught sight of Jongdae laughing and drinking at a large table, “here it will be fine.”  
  
“Okay. The truck is out front.” Kyungsoo walked away, throwing a ‘bye’ at Seungyoon. She looked dejected but also too drunk to get truly upset.  
  
Chanyeol found Jongdae and told him he was leaving, which earned a momentary whine from his fellow teacher followed by an “I am going to be so hungover tomorrow.”  
  
Chanyeol walked to the truck, climbing inside he sighed in relief that the event was over. After making sure Kyungsoo wasn’t actually drunk and able to drive he muttered, “Let’s go.”  
  
Kyungsoo drove in silence for a few minutes before saying, “I was surprised to see you laughing with Seungyoon.”  
  
“Why is that?” Chanyeol asked absentmindedly. He was staring out the window, his brain and body both exhausted.  
  
“No reason.” Kyungsoo cleared his throat.  
  
Sometimes, Chanyeol thought, there were things that just couldn’t be said.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol spent more and more time at the school, handling the paperwork for the newly enrolling students. They also were looking for a few more teachers to help out, there was no way that Jongdae and Chanyeol could handle the upcoming class size.  
  
They interviewed plenty of people, finally settling on a woman and two men to join the staff. It was a busy time for him and it was a busy time back on the farm, with Kyungsoo working all day and into the night maintaining the crop.  
  
They rarely sat out on the porch anymore, both too tired to spend an evening in the ever present humidity. They would chat inside after dinner, but it was never very lively. Even Baekhyun seemed unusually tired, his youthful energy no match for helping his uncle in the fields.  
  
When one morning Ji Hyo mentioned an upcoming festival, Chanyeol was only half listening. He was still tired, his fatigue never really going away.  
  
“Will you come?” Kyungsoo asked over breakfast. When Chanyeol saw the hope in his eyes he agreed to it.  
  
“What is the festival for?” Chanyeol asked.  
  
Kyungsoo looked down at his plate as he answered. “It is the festival of Chunhyang, the festival of lovers.”  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t be sure, but he thought Kyungsoo’s cheeks were tinged pink as he said it.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
The call came the day of the festival. The entire city was gearing up for the celebration - it would be the first since the war. Chanyeol walked through town, marveling at the decorations and festive mood. He had planned on ducking into the school for a few hours and helping to arrange the newly arrived desks for the science room, but his plans were cut short. As he passed by the post office one of the workers ran out, waving a telegram.  
  
“Park Chanyeol, right?” he shoved the telegram into his hand. “What fortune, they said it was urgent.”  
  
Chanyeol looked at the telegram, feeling dread. He walked over to a small alley and opened the paper, afraid what it could be and not wanting everyone to see him reading it.  
  
Father is ill. Stop. Mother is ill. Stop. Sending driver for you on tomorrow. Stop  
  
Yoora  
  
Chanyeol stared at the piece of paper. His parents were ill?! How ill? He turned and stalked back to the post office. Entering the building he spotted the public telephone. He had a few coins in his pocket, which he put into the slot. With a few turns of the rotary dial he was connected to his parent’s house in Seoul.  
  
Yoora answered.  
  
“How bad is it?” He gripped the receiver tightly out of fear.  
  
“The doctor isn’t sure how long the might make it, but we need you to come back. To be with them...and the business.”  
  
Of course. The business. Even on his potential death bed, his father was worried about the business.  
  
“I’m going to send someone tomorrow to bring you back, it is the soonest I can get someone.”  
  
“I...tell them I will come home.” Why did his words sound so empty?  
  
“I will.” Yoora sounded tired, her voice raw. “Take care, little brother.”  
  
When the call ended Chanyeol cradled the phone in his hand. He was going back. He needed to go back.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol found Kyungsoo tending to the fields, a large straw hat protecting his face from the sun. He knew that walking through the fields in his new boots would be foolish, but he wasn’t going to wait to tell him. He plodded through the paddies, the telegram still tucked into his front pocket.  
  
“Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo smiled brightly, eagerly maybe. Or perhaps it was Chanyeol’s imagination. “What are you doing back?”  
  
“I…” Chanyeol’s voice cracked. There was no easy way to say it, especially since he felt like there was a huge unknown attached to it. Would he come back? Maybe. Did he want to come back? Absolutely. Would his life allow him to? Probably not. “I’m leaving tomorrow. My parents are ill.”  
  
Kyungsoo furrowed his brow. “Leaving? What happened, are they going to…”  
  
“I’m not sure, but it sounds bad. I need to return to Seoul, for the business and for my parents.”  
  
“For the business.” Kyungsoo repeated slowly.  
  
“Yeah, at least for a while. It isn’t that I want to, but if I don’t go….Kyungsoo, there are things I have to do whether I like it or not.” He didn’t hate his parents, maybe he hated their lifestyle. But did he want to not help them when they needed him? No, he wanted to help.  
  
“I see.” Kyungsoo went back to tilling the field.  
  
“Say something other than I see.” Chanyeol had no right to demand it, but he needed it.  
  
“I’m not sure there is anything else to say,” Kyungsoo said quietly.  
  
After standing in silence for a couple minutes Chanyeol turned around and walked back towards the house. He felt physical pain.  
  
This thing, this feeling, whatever it was – unspoken, gnawed at him more than ever. Because soon, he reasoned, it would be no more.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Kyungsoo drove them into town for the festival, a bouncy ride over the country roads as tension hung in the air.  
  
Chanyeol had told Ji Hyo he had to leave, watching as she frowned and looked upset. But she swore she understood and Chanyeol believed that she did – more than Kyungsoo probably. She had offered to send something for his parents, but he politely declined. He knew they would look down on anything she sent, and Chanyeol didn’t want to see her hard work disrespected.  
  
When they arrived at the festival the place was bustling, like the entire town had turned out for it. Many people were dressed in hanboks, even Ji Hyo had worn one of her more colorful ones (but not her pink one, thankfully). There were performers dancing and the scent of food was heavy in the air.  
  
The festival grounds were colorful, full of life and the overwhelming sense of happiness such celebrations bring.  Despite his own dark cloud, Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile.  
  
As soon as they were out of the truck Baekhyun got lost somewhere in the throng of people, his energetic self-darting to and fro among the stalls selling all types of treats. Ji Hyo trailed after him, leaving Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to walk side by side in silence.  
  
“Chanyeol!” Jongdae appeared from the crowd, one hand full of a treat from one of the stalls.  
  
Chanyeol waved, then stilled as he realized he needed to tell Jongdae he was going. Kyungsoo kept walking while Chanyeol hung back.  
  
“Did you just get here?” Jongdae asked, munching on his snack.  
  
“Yeah.” Chanyeol took a deep breath, knowing it was as good of a time as ever to tell him. “Jongdae, I am going back to Seoul tomorrow. My parents are sick.”  
  
Jongdae pursed his lips. “I am sorry to hear that.”  
  
“Yeah, I know it leaves the school in a bind but I can’t help it.” Chanyeol felt guilty.  
  
“No problem. I mean, you have to go. Family is more important. Just let us know how things are going, okay.”  
  
“I will. Thank you Jongdae. Thank you for everything.” Chanyeol felt himself choke up, the sense this might be a final goodbye too overwhelming to ignore. Jongdae hugged Chanyeol with his free arm.  
  
“Keep in touch. Come back if you can.”  
  
“I will, I will,” Chanyeol promised.  
  
Jongdae wiped a tear and then faked a smile. “I gotta go.”  
  
Chanyeol watched he enter the crowd, knowing he didn’t want to stick around and cry about it.  
  
With a deep breath Chanyeol walked forward, looking for Kyungsoo and Ji Hyo. He finally found one of them, his height letting him see over the crowd.  
  
Kyungsoo was leaning against a tree, watching a group of performers.  When he spotted Chanyeol coming towards him he stared, his expression unreadable.  
  
“We should go for a walk,” Kyungsoo said quietly.  
  
“Okay.” Chanyeol was happy that Kyungsoo was talking to him. If this was the last time he saw him he didn’t want it to be silence and anger. Disappointment and hurt. They walked for a while, the path that led through the festival grounds finally snaking into nothing more than a barely maintained cart track. But they kept walking, neither suggesting leaving the festival behind was a problem. Darkness fell and finally they stopped.  
  
Crickets. The warm night air. The distant noise of music coming from the festival. Their breathing.  
  
“Here.”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to make out Kyungsoo’s outstretched hands. He was holding something, pushing it towards Chanyeol.  
  
“Take this.”  
  
Chanyeol was confused, opening his larger hand and letting something fall into it. The object was cold. When he smoothed his fingers over it he realized it was some sort of stone. It was one of the stones Kyungsoo kept hidden away, the tiny little treasures he found on the farm. It was a piece of the beauty Kyungsoo treasured and kept away, protecting it from the harsh reality he saw all around him. And now it laid in Chanyeol’s large palm, a token of trust, of giving, of letting a piece of what mattered go. It was, Chanyeol realized, the most important thing Kyungsoo could have given him.  
  
“It is from the farm. I found it while tilling,” Kyungsoo said slowly. His voice was raw, the emotion audible.  
  
Chanyeol closed his hand, squeezing the small stone in the palm of his hand. As the sounds of the pansori  of Chunhyang filtered through the night Chanyeol gripped the small token. As the people of Namwon listened to a tale they knew by heart– of two lovers who could only be together in secret– Kyungsoo and Chanyeol stood in darkness, hiding the simplest of things.  
  
“I don’t want to go,” Chanyeol was crying now, it was too much for him. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have to.”  
  
Some things couldn’t be said but some things needed to be said.  
  
“Thank you, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo was crying too, his voice choked as he turned to the taller man. “Thank you,” it was barely a whisper, a simple thing to say as tears flowed.  
  
Some things couldn’t be said but some things could be done.  
  
Chanyeol didn’t care, not now. If this was it he needed something, he needed this. His heart, his soul needed this. He faced Kyungsoo and without hesitation he put his arm around his waist and pulled him to him, leaning down to capture his lips with his own.  
  
Kyungsoo didn’t struggle, protest, or fight back. He kissed Chanyeol back, their lips parting as they tasted each other for the first and very likely the last time. Their tears intermingled, the salty taste ignored as they explored each other’s mouths.  
  
Time stopped as everything that had been left unsaid was communicated with their actions. As every what-if came down to this moment. Chanyeol felt his heart beat like it would come out of his chest. He felt dizzy, intoxicated even though he hadn’t had anything to drink. But above all of that he felt an acute sense of loss knowing this would probably be it. When they parted both of them were breathing raggedly, panting as they slipped away from each other.  
  
Chanyeol let Kyungsoo go, stepping back.  
  
“We should get back,” Kyungsoo sounded breathless.  
  
“Yeah, we should,” Chanyeol agreed, drying his tears with his sleeve.  
  
They walked in the darkness back towards the festival just as the pansori finished. Applause rang out as they reached the edge of the festival grounds, the colorful paper lanterns lighting their way.  
  
Chanyeol sucked in a deep breath. In his hand he still held the stone. He would treasure it forever.  
  
Nothing much more was said as they returned to the farmhouse an hour later.  
  
When Chanyeol got up in the morning Ji Hyo was up to see him off. Kyungsoo didn’t appear all day and when the driver came to pick Chanyeol up he was still absent. In some ways Chanyeol was glad for it. They had said their goodbye the night before.  
  
As the car pulled down the road Chanyeol looked behind him, capturing the image in his mind. He watched until he could no longer see the farmhouse. Until he could no longer see his home.  
  
 As June turned to July, Chanyeol left Namwon behind.  
  
   
  
**JULY 1954**

 

  
It was worse than Chanyeol ever imagined. He found his parents– the once vivacious and healthy couple, always infallible in his mind, laying weak and so very thin. He found his sister, his rock, his strength, barely holding on.  
  
The doctor said it was influenza, extremely contagious and deadly. Chanyeol was told to keep his distance from his parents so he wasn’t infected. He didn’t listen, staying by their bedside as much as he could which wasn’t as often as he liked.  
  
The business needed him. There were phone calls and appointments. Government deals and buyouts.  Chanyeol had to have a few suits made so he could be presentable as he took his father’s place. Suddenly he was reading contracts and looking for the best possible terms. Suddenly he was his father.  
  
His mother died at one in the morning two weeks after he returned to Seoul. His father held on for three days more, wasting away as he could no longer eat or drink. Chanyeol and Yoora were at the funeral hall for almost a week when everything was said and done.  
  
As July turned to August, Chanyeol found himself alone.                         
  
   
  
**AUGUST 1954**  
  
   
  
It was mid-August when he realized it had been a month and a half since he left Namwon. He was too busy and still struggling with the death of his parents to notice the time that had passed. He kept the small stone Kyungsoo had given him in a drawer in his room so he wouldn’t lose it, but while he used to take it out every day he didn’t look at it anymore.  
  
There was simply no time to think of anything but business when he had so much to figure out. His father had left half-finished business agreements, vague instructions, and a large fortune that needed to be managed. And Chanyeol found himself slaving away to understand it, to keep Yoora going with what they had left. To make it out of the dark period of their lives relatively unscathed other than the gaping hole that was once filled by their parents.  
  
And yet, when he was alone at night he felt empty. He wasn’t happy, he was surviving. And then, only then would his mind wonder to Namwon, to a white farmhouse with a family he loved. To a man he loved. Because in the recesses of his mind he had known it for a while, and now that he was gone he could admit it to himself. He loved Kyungsoo, and that made the pain even worse.  
  
He hoped Kyungsoo was happy, that the crops were doing well. He hoped Baekhyun had enrolled in school, he hoped Ji Hyo was having less episodes. He hoped Jongdae was enjoying teaching. He hoped and he hoped and that would only add to the depression he was trying to ignore.  
  
As August turned to September, Chanyeol pretended everything would be okay.  
  
   
  
**SEPTEMBER 1954**  
  
   
  
Chanyeol’s brother in law started helping out in the business in late August, finally taking his investments and merging them with the same legal entity as Chanyeol’s parent’s business. He was a partner now and his help was invaluable.  Chanyeol’s workload lessened as he had a more experienced person to help him.  
  
With more free time came more time to think, which in the end meant more time to be sad. Chanyeol debated writing a letter or sending a telegram to Kyungsoo but he thought it would make things worse. If he was feeling at all what Chanyeol was then it would be opening the wound.  
  
That all changed one day in September when Chanyeol was leaving the bank. He had come to deposit the latest payment for a government contract, a bi weekly occurrence that was so routine now he knew the bankers by name.  
  
As he walked towards the door he passed the small line of other customers, not bothering to look over until his name was called. Well, to be more specific his last name. “Park!”  
  
Chanyeol stopped in his tracks and turned to see Jongin staring back at him. He had a mind to keep walking and would have if Jongin hadn’t immediately followed up his shout with, “Turns out I’m the winner in the end.”  
  
He looked smug, full of himself, and it grated on Chanyeol. He didn’t want to give Jongin the satisfaction of asking how he had won, but at the same time he wanted to know. “How?”  
  
“That farmer of yours is selling me his farm, couldn’t keep his fields going this year. See, I was right. Good thing I can buy it for half what I offered him earlier. Thanks for helping me with the deal.”  
  
Chanyeol felt faint. Kyungsoo was selling the farm? The crops failed?!  
  
The farm was everything to Kyungsoo, something he would never ever part with. It was his lifeblood, what he worked for day and night. And he was selling it?  
  
Chanyeol ran from the bank, not staying to listen to anything else Jongin had to say.  
  
   
  
   
  
Yoora was seated in her parlor when her brother arrived looking disheveled. His hair was windblown and his tie had been loosened. One look at him and she could tell he was angry.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Yoora, I need to go. I need to go back to Namwon,” he was breathless.  
  
“For how long?” she asked.  
  
“Forever,” Chanyeol answered, his voice raw with emotion.  
  
   
  
   
  
Chanyeol took the train back, the fastest method of travel since recent rains had washed out some of the roads to Namwon. He moved his knee up and down incessantly the entire way there, nervous he would be too late. In his hand he rolled the small stone back and forth, cold against his palm as his heart beat erratically.  
  
He tried to send a telegram before he left Seoul but he couldn’t be sure it got through, lines were down because of the storms too.  
  
When the train stopped he grabbed his bag and rushed to get off, disembarking before anyone else. Unlike the first time he had arrived in this place he didn’t have to ask where to go. He didn’t have to take note of everything, he didn’t have to wonder what was in store for him as he trudged up a country road.  
  
This time he was running through the town, as fast as he could go. He took a chance by rushing into city hall, hoping Ji Won was there. The village head looked terrified when Chanyeol burst into his office and asked “Can you drive me to the farm?”  
  
“I didn’t know you were back.”  Ji Won stood up to shake Chanyeol’s hand.  
  
“Please, I need to go now.” Chanyeol bowed, “Sorry it is urgent.”  
  
“I think Kyungsoo is in town if you are looking for a ride. I saw him go into the bank earlier.” Ji Won was clearly concerned. He was looking at Chanyeol like he was a crazy person.  
  
“The bank?” Chanyeol squeaked, feeling dread overtake him. Did that mean he was going there to sign away the farm?  
  
He turned around and rushed out of city hall, almost running into someone as he entered the marketplace. He kept running until he was rushing through the doors of the bank. He stopped and looked around wildly. “Is Do Kyungsoo here?!” he shouted to the shocked bankers.  
  
When they didn’t respond right away he shouted his words again, fear overtaking him.  
  
“Chanyeol?”  Kyungsoo emerged from a door in the back of the bank, his eyes wide as he looked at the man. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Chanyeol rushed to him, stopping in front of him he doubled over, his breathing heavy from all the running. “Did you sell the farm?” he asked through ragged breaths. He felt like he might pass out at any moment.  
  
“I was about to sign the deed over,” Kyungsoo said softly. “How did you find out?”  
  
“Don’t do it.” Chanyeol braced his hands on his knees and looked at Kyungsoo. “I have enough money, I can pay off your loans, and I can help you keep the farm. Don’t sell.”  
  
Kyungsoo furrowed his brow. “I can’t let you do that. I can’t accept your money.”  
  
Chanyeol gave him a pained look before he reached into his pocket. He pulled the stone out and thrust it towards Kyungsoo before whispering, “I came back and I am staying.”  
  
Kyungsoo stared at the shiny pebble, his eyes going wide for a moment. He looked from the pebble, the tiny stone he had found on the land that meant so much to him, up to the man he had given it to. The man who through six months had come to mean a lot to him too. The man that he used to hate.  
  
In the city of lovers, history could be a conflux of folklore, of distorted beliefs and silly love stories. It could be a farmer’s daughter finding kinship with a romantic myth so she could give credence to her crush, ignoring the fact it was never going to be consummated. It could be a man who lost everything thinking this was the place to fall in love. It could be a lot of things, but this, this was them. This was their version.  
  
Kyungsoo held out his palm, letting the stone drop into his hand. “Alright,” he whispered. “I’ll accept your help.”  
  
Chanyeol smiled, his heart swelling at Kyungsoo’s agreement. The happiness that had left him seemed to rush back at once. After going into the back room of the bank and seeing a very pissed off Jongin, Chanyeol pulled out his billfold and deposited the money needed to pay off Kyungsoo’s loans and keep the deed in his name.  
  
When they walked out of the bank twenty minutes later Kyungsoo was smiling.  
  
“Let’s go home,” he said to Chanyeol.  
  
Chanyeol nodded. “Yeah, let’s go home.”  
  
As September turned into October, Chanyeol came home for good.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
**OCTOBER 1954**  
  
   
  
Chanyeol spent most of his evenings at his desk, grading papers. He had been able to assume his own classes as soon as he was back, finding that Jongdae was unable to locate another teacher so they were all overextended. He loved teaching, something he realized the first day he stood in front of his pupils and introduced himself. It helped, he supposed, that one bright eyed little boy was in his class, raising his hand and calling him Uncle when he knew the answer to a question.  
  
He had been back in Namwon for almost a month, and he couldn’t be happier. His brother in law had assumed the business back in Seoul which was the right choice for everyone. He was suited for it and liked doing it, while Chanyeol only found the entire thing depressing and stressful.  
  
Kyungsoo had been busy cleaning up the fields and the failed crop. It was the heavy rains that had washed the fields out, causing the rice to die. It spelled disaster for the farmers and while Kyungsoo was no longer in debt he still had a struggle ahead of him.  
  
He wouldn’t take anymore of Chanyeol’s money, which Chanyeol finally accepted. It would be a tough winter but with enough hard work they would get through it.  
  
There were still wounds here, scars on the earth and on the humans that dwelt there. But they were healing, as each day passed a future was possible. As each day passed, the memories no longer controlled the present. And it was all possible because they were together.  
  
Ji Hyo was getting better too, it seemed, even though the summer had been rough. She hadn’t had an episode in almost two months Kyungsoo reported. Chanyeol wondered if that had anything to do with the fact Jongdae liked to stop over from time to time, chatting with her until she blushed. Apparently Jongdae had started visiting shortly after Chanyeol left, stopping in as a way to say hello to those who were so nice to his friend. It was an odd pairing but if it made them happy he was okay with it. Jongdae was a great guy after all.  
  
And in the evenings, even though the weather was getting cold, He would sit on the porch with Kyungsoo and his old guitar. When everyone was in bed and darkness had descended they would dare to kiss, but never for long.  
  
It was always going to be something that they had to hide, Chanyeol realized. They would never be able to be open about their relationship, but it was the reality of the situation. They still held hands in public, because friends did that. They still looked at each other with love, because that just couldn’t be helped.  
  
And at the end of October, when Seungyoon’s engagement to a neighboring farmer was announced, they talked about it as they cuddled under the autumn stars, their relationship safe under the darkness of night.  
  
“I bet she thinks it is fate,” Kyungsoo laughed into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck.  
  
Their height difference made cuddling somewhat difficult, Kyungsoo complained. But to Chanyeol holding the smaller man in his arms, with Kyungsoo’s head resting on his shoulder, the logistics were just perfect. Absolutely perfect.  
  
“I assume she does,” Chanyeol agreed.  
  
Silence hung in the air after that, punctuated by a whisper that had Chanyeol’s face heating up.  
  
“I love you, Park Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo whispered into his shirt.  
  
“I love you too,” Chanyeol responded, planting a kiss on Kyungsoo’s forehead.  
  
Secrets could be the worst things in the world, but for them it was going to be a way of life. And they accepted that, lying in a desolate field outside of Namwon. Because knowing their love would be hidden was better than knowing it would never exist, never come to fruition.  
  
As October turned into November, two men prepared to spend the rest of their lives together.  
  
   



End file.
